Text stringlengths 1 42.7k ⌀ | Speaker stringclasses 528 values | Text_10_word_context stringlengths 44 42.8k | Text_20_word_context stringlengths 74 42.8k | Text_100_word_context stringlengths 291 43.2k | Text_200_word_context stringlengths 562 43.7k | Text_400_word_context stringlengths 1.08k 44.7k | Text_800_word_context stringlengths 2.14k 46.9k | Text_1600_word_context stringlengths 4.15k 51.3k | Text_variable_400_to_1200_word_context stringlengths 1.3k 48k | Book stringclasses 47 values |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. | No speaker | Archer said he was “leppin’”<|quote|>to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance.</|quote|>“Let’s take a breeze now | ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’”<|quote|>to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance.</|quote|>“Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or | was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’”<|quote|>to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance.</|quote|>“Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, | a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’”<|quote|>to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance.</|quote|>“Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me | other sex. Aunt Helen got one seat of honour near the head of the table and Miss Derrick another. I drifted to the foot among the unimportant younger fry, where we had no end of fun and idle chatter. We had to wait on ourselves, and as all formality was dispensed with, it was something like a picnic. The heat was excessive. Every window and door were open, and the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’”<|quote|>to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance.</|quote|>“Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into | being pointed to as a beauty, I weighed her according to my idea of facial charm, and pronounced her one of the most insipid-looking people I had set eyes upon. She was the kind of woman with whom men become much infatuated. She would never make a fool of herself by letting her emotions run away with her, because she had no emotions, but lived in a sea of unruffled self-consciousness and self-confidence. Any man would be proud to introduce her as his wife to his friends whom he had brought home to dinner. She would adorn the head of his table. She would never worry him with silly ideas. She would never act with impropriety. She would never become a companion to her husband. Bah, a man does not want his wife to be a companion! There were myths and fables in the old day; so there are now. The story that men like a companion as well as a wife is an up-to-date one. This train of thought was interrupted by our host, who appeared in the doorway, clad from sole to neck in white. We steered for the dining-room—twenty-two all told—thirteen men and nine representatives of the other sex. Aunt Helen got one seat of honour near the head of the table and Miss Derrick another. I drifted to the foot among the unimportant younger fry, where we had no end of fun and idle chatter. We had to wait on ourselves, and as all formality was dispensed with, it was something like a picnic. The heat was excessive. Every window and door were open, and the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’”<|quote|>to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance.</|quote|>“Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His | which had been locked all day, and saw to the comfort of the gentlemen guests. Aunt Helen and I shared the one bedroom. As we had not fresh dresses to put on we had to make the best of our present toilet. I unplaited my hair (shook the dust out of it) and wore it flowing. We washed and dusted ourselves, and wore as adornment—roses. Crimson and cream roses paid the penalty of peeping in the window. Aunt Helen plucked some of them, which she put in my hair and belt, and pinned carefully at my throat, and then we were ready. Miss Beecham assured us there was nothing to be done, as the maids had set the table and prepared the viands for a cold meal before leaving in the morning, so we proceeded to the drawing-room to await the arrival of the other visitors. They soon made their appearance. First, two stout old squatters with big laughs and bigger corporations, then Miss Augusta Beecham, next Joe Archer the overseer, and the two other jackeroos. After these appeared a couple of governesses, Mr, Mrs, and Miss Benson, a clergyman, an auctioneer, a young friend of Harold’s from Cootamundra, a horse-buyer, a wool-classer, Miss Sarah Beecham, and then Miss Derrick brought herself and her dress in with great style and airs. She was garbed in a sea-green silk, and had jewellery on her neck, arms, and hair. Her self-confident mien was suggestive of the conquest of many masculine hearts. She was a big handsome woman. Beside her, I in my crushed white muslin dress was as overshadowed as a little white handkerchief would be in comparison to a gorgeous shawl heavily wrought in silks and velvet. She was given the best seat as though she were a princess. She sat down with great indifference, twirled a bracelet round her wrist, languidly opened her fan, and closed her eyes as she wafted it slowly to and fro. “By Jove, isn’t she a splendid creature?” enthusiastically whispered a gentleman sitting beside me. I looked at her critically. She was very big, and in a bony stiff way was much developed in figure. She had a nice big nose, and a long well-shaped face, a thin straight mouth, and empty light eyes. If my attention had not been called to her I would not have noticed her one way or the other, but being pointed to as a beauty, I weighed her according to my idea of facial charm, and pronounced her one of the most insipid-looking people I had set eyes upon. She was the kind of woman with whom men become much infatuated. She would never make a fool of herself by letting her emotions run away with her, because she had no emotions, but lived in a sea of unruffled self-consciousness and self-confidence. Any man would be proud to introduce her as his wife to his friends whom he had brought home to dinner. She would adorn the head of his table. She would never worry him with silly ideas. She would never act with impropriety. She would never become a companion to her husband. Bah, a man does not want his wife to be a companion! There were myths and fables in the old day; so there are now. The story that men like a companion as well as a wife is an up-to-date one. This train of thought was interrupted by our host, who appeared in the doorway, clad from sole to neck in white. We steered for the dining-room—twenty-two all told—thirteen men and nine representatives of the other sex. Aunt Helen got one seat of honour near the head of the table and Miss Derrick another. I drifted to the foot among the unimportant younger fry, where we had no end of fun and idle chatter. We had to wait on ourselves, and as all formality was dispensed with, it was something like a picnic. The heat was excessive. Every window and door were open, and the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’”<|quote|>to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance.</|quote|>“Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy | silks and velvet. She was given the best seat as though she were a princess. She sat down with great indifference, twirled a bracelet round her wrist, languidly opened her fan, and closed her eyes as she wafted it slowly to and fro. “By Jove, isn’t she a splendid creature?” enthusiastically whispered a gentleman sitting beside me. I looked at her critically. She was very big, and in a bony stiff way was much developed in figure. She had a nice big nose, and a long well-shaped face, a thin straight mouth, and empty light eyes. If my attention had not been called to her I would not have noticed her one way or the other, but being pointed to as a beauty, I weighed her according to my idea of facial charm, and pronounced her one of the most insipid-looking people I had set eyes upon. She was the kind of woman with whom men become much infatuated. She would never make a fool of herself by letting her emotions run away with her, because she had no emotions, but lived in a sea of unruffled self-consciousness and self-confidence. Any man would be proud to introduce her as his wife to his friends whom he had brought home to dinner. She would adorn the head of his table. She would never worry him with silly ideas. She would never act with impropriety. She would never become a companion to her husband. Bah, a man does not want his wife to be a companion! There were myths and fables in the old day; so there are now. The story that men like a companion as well as a wife is an up-to-date one. This train of thought was interrupted by our host, who appeared in the doorway, clad from sole to neck in white. We steered for the dining-room—twenty-two all told—thirteen men and nine representatives of the other sex. Aunt Helen got one seat of honour near the head of the table and Miss Derrick another. I drifted to the foot among the unimportant younger fry, where we had no end of fun and idle chatter. We had to wait on ourselves, and as all formality was dispensed with, it was something like a picnic. The heat was excessive. Every window and door were open, and the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’”<|quote|>to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance.</|quote|>“Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was | My Brilliant Career |
said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, | No speaker | more dancing for a while,”<|quote|>said some of them; but Harold Beecham said,</|quote|>“One more turn, and then | song or two, but no more dancing for a while,”<|quote|>said some of them; but Harold Beecham said,</|quote|>“One more turn, and then we will have a long | dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,”<|quote|>said some of them; but Harold Beecham said,</|quote|>“One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. | the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,”<|quote|>said some of them; but Harold Beecham said,</|quote|>“One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, | first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,”<|quote|>said some of them; but Harold Beecham said,</|quote|>“One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed | Derrick another. I drifted to the foot among the unimportant younger fry, where we had no end of fun and idle chatter. We had to wait on ourselves, and as all formality was dispensed with, it was something like a picnic. The heat was excessive. Every window and door were open, and the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,”<|quote|>said some of them; but Harold Beecham said,</|quote|>“One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to | great style and airs. She was garbed in a sea-green silk, and had jewellery on her neck, arms, and hair. Her self-confident mien was suggestive of the conquest of many masculine hearts. She was a big handsome woman. Beside her, I in my crushed white muslin dress was as overshadowed as a little white handkerchief would be in comparison to a gorgeous shawl heavily wrought in silks and velvet. She was given the best seat as though she were a princess. She sat down with great indifference, twirled a bracelet round her wrist, languidly opened her fan, and closed her eyes as she wafted it slowly to and fro. “By Jove, isn’t she a splendid creature?” enthusiastically whispered a gentleman sitting beside me. I looked at her critically. She was very big, and in a bony stiff way was much developed in figure. She had a nice big nose, and a long well-shaped face, a thin straight mouth, and empty light eyes. If my attention had not been called to her I would not have noticed her one way or the other, but being pointed to as a beauty, I weighed her according to my idea of facial charm, and pronounced her one of the most insipid-looking people I had set eyes upon. She was the kind of woman with whom men become much infatuated. She would never make a fool of herself by letting her emotions run away with her, because she had no emotions, but lived in a sea of unruffled self-consciousness and self-confidence. Any man would be proud to introduce her as his wife to his friends whom he had brought home to dinner. She would adorn the head of his table. She would never worry him with silly ideas. She would never act with impropriety. She would never become a companion to her husband. Bah, a man does not want his wife to be a companion! There were myths and fables in the old day; so there are now. The story that men like a companion as well as a wife is an up-to-date one. This train of thought was interrupted by our host, who appeared in the doorway, clad from sole to neck in white. We steered for the dining-room—twenty-two all told—thirteen men and nine representatives of the other sex. Aunt Helen got one seat of honour near the head of the table and Miss Derrick another. I drifted to the foot among the unimportant younger fry, where we had no end of fun and idle chatter. We had to wait on ourselves, and as all formality was dispensed with, it was something like a picnic. The heat was excessive. Every window and door were open, and the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,”<|quote|>said some of them; but Harold Beecham said,</|quote|>“One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a | worry him with silly ideas. She would never act with impropriety. She would never become a companion to her husband. Bah, a man does not want his wife to be a companion! There were myths and fables in the old day; so there are now. The story that men like a companion as well as a wife is an up-to-date one. This train of thought was interrupted by our host, who appeared in the doorway, clad from sole to neck in white. We steered for the dining-room—twenty-two all told—thirteen men and nine representatives of the other sex. Aunt Helen got one seat of honour near the head of the table and Miss Derrick another. I drifted to the foot among the unimportant younger fry, where we had no end of fun and idle chatter. We had to wait on ourselves, and as all formality was dispensed with, it was something like a picnic. The heat was excessive. Every window and door were open, and the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,”<|quote|>said some of them; but Harold Beecham said,</|quote|>“One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of | My Brilliant Career |
“One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” | Harold Beecham | them; but Harold Beecham said,<|quote|>“One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.”</|quote|>He ordered Joe Archer to | a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said,<|quote|>“One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.”</|quote|>He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the | no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said,<|quote|>“One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.”</|quote|>He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It | and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said,<|quote|>“One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.”</|quote|>He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had | dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said,<|quote|>“One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.”</|quote|>He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the | the unimportant younger fry, where we had no end of fun and idle chatter. We had to wait on ourselves, and as all formality was dispensed with, it was something like a picnic. The heat was excessive. Every window and door were open, and the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said,<|quote|>“One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.”</|quote|>He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since | a sea-green silk, and had jewellery on her neck, arms, and hair. Her self-confident mien was suggestive of the conquest of many masculine hearts. She was a big handsome woman. Beside her, I in my crushed white muslin dress was as overshadowed as a little white handkerchief would be in comparison to a gorgeous shawl heavily wrought in silks and velvet. She was given the best seat as though she were a princess. She sat down with great indifference, twirled a bracelet round her wrist, languidly opened her fan, and closed her eyes as she wafted it slowly to and fro. “By Jove, isn’t she a splendid creature?” enthusiastically whispered a gentleman sitting beside me. I looked at her critically. She was very big, and in a bony stiff way was much developed in figure. She had a nice big nose, and a long well-shaped face, a thin straight mouth, and empty light eyes. If my attention had not been called to her I would not have noticed her one way or the other, but being pointed to as a beauty, I weighed her according to my idea of facial charm, and pronounced her one of the most insipid-looking people I had set eyes upon. She was the kind of woman with whom men become much infatuated. She would never make a fool of herself by letting her emotions run away with her, because she had no emotions, but lived in a sea of unruffled self-consciousness and self-confidence. Any man would be proud to introduce her as his wife to his friends whom he had brought home to dinner. She would adorn the head of his table. She would never worry him with silly ideas. She would never act with impropriety. She would never become a companion to her husband. Bah, a man does not want his wife to be a companion! There were myths and fables in the old day; so there are now. The story that men like a companion as well as a wife is an up-to-date one. This train of thought was interrupted by our host, who appeared in the doorway, clad from sole to neck in white. We steered for the dining-room—twenty-two all told—thirteen men and nine representatives of the other sex. Aunt Helen got one seat of honour near the head of the table and Miss Derrick another. I drifted to the foot among the unimportant younger fry, where we had no end of fun and idle chatter. We had to wait on ourselves, and as all formality was dispensed with, it was something like a picnic. The heat was excessive. Every window and door were open, and the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said,<|quote|>“One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.”</|quote|>He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining | a wife is an up-to-date one. This train of thought was interrupted by our host, who appeared in the doorway, clad from sole to neck in white. We steered for the dining-room—twenty-two all told—thirteen men and nine representatives of the other sex. Aunt Helen got one seat of honour near the head of the table and Miss Derrick another. I drifted to the foot among the unimportant younger fry, where we had no end of fun and idle chatter. We had to wait on ourselves, and as all formality was dispensed with, it was something like a picnic. The heat was excessive. Every window and door were open, and the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said,<|quote|>“One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.”</|quote|>He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, | My Brilliant Career |
He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold | No speaker | and a change of programme.”<|quote|>He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold</|quote|>“requested the pleasure” of me—the | will have a long spell and a change of programme.”<|quote|>He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold</|quote|>“requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I | up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.”<|quote|>He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold</|quote|>“requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a | their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.”<|quote|>He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold</|quote|>“requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a | which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.”<|quote|>He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold</|quote|>“requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing | to wait on ourselves, and as all formality was dispensed with, it was something like a picnic. The heat was excessive. Every window and door were open, and the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.”<|quote|>He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold</|quote|>“requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only | suggestive of the conquest of many masculine hearts. She was a big handsome woman. Beside her, I in my crushed white muslin dress was as overshadowed as a little white handkerchief would be in comparison to a gorgeous shawl heavily wrought in silks and velvet. She was given the best seat as though she were a princess. She sat down with great indifference, twirled a bracelet round her wrist, languidly opened her fan, and closed her eyes as she wafted it slowly to and fro. “By Jove, isn’t she a splendid creature?” enthusiastically whispered a gentleman sitting beside me. I looked at her critically. She was very big, and in a bony stiff way was much developed in figure. She had a nice big nose, and a long well-shaped face, a thin straight mouth, and empty light eyes. If my attention had not been called to her I would not have noticed her one way or the other, but being pointed to as a beauty, I weighed her according to my idea of facial charm, and pronounced her one of the most insipid-looking people I had set eyes upon. She was the kind of woman with whom men become much infatuated. She would never make a fool of herself by letting her emotions run away with her, because she had no emotions, but lived in a sea of unruffled self-consciousness and self-confidence. Any man would be proud to introduce her as his wife to his friends whom he had brought home to dinner. She would adorn the head of his table. She would never worry him with silly ideas. She would never act with impropriety. She would never become a companion to her husband. Bah, a man does not want his wife to be a companion! There were myths and fables in the old day; so there are now. The story that men like a companion as well as a wife is an up-to-date one. This train of thought was interrupted by our host, who appeared in the doorway, clad from sole to neck in white. We steered for the dining-room—twenty-two all told—thirteen men and nine representatives of the other sex. Aunt Helen got one seat of honour near the head of the table and Miss Derrick another. I drifted to the foot among the unimportant younger fry, where we had no end of fun and idle chatter. We had to wait on ourselves, and as all formality was dispensed with, it was something like a picnic. The heat was excessive. Every window and door were open, and the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.”<|quote|>He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold</|quote|>“requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, | faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.”<|quote|>He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold</|quote|>“requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t | My Brilliant Career |
“requested the pleasure” | Harold Beecham | held several whirling couples. Harold<|quote|>“requested the pleasure”</|quote|>of me—the first time that | waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold<|quote|>“requested the pleasure”</|quote|>of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would | or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold<|quote|>“requested the pleasure”</|quote|>of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” | sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold<|quote|>“requested the pleasure”</|quote|>of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” | themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold<|quote|>“requested the pleasure”</|quote|>of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: | The heat was excessive. Every window and door were open, and the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold<|quote|>“requested the pleasure”</|quote|>of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you | in my crushed white muslin dress was as overshadowed as a little white handkerchief would be in comparison to a gorgeous shawl heavily wrought in silks and velvet. She was given the best seat as though she were a princess. She sat down with great indifference, twirled a bracelet round her wrist, languidly opened her fan, and closed her eyes as she wafted it slowly to and fro. “By Jove, isn’t she a splendid creature?” enthusiastically whispered a gentleman sitting beside me. I looked at her critically. She was very big, and in a bony stiff way was much developed in figure. She had a nice big nose, and a long well-shaped face, a thin straight mouth, and empty light eyes. If my attention had not been called to her I would not have noticed her one way or the other, but being pointed to as a beauty, I weighed her according to my idea of facial charm, and pronounced her one of the most insipid-looking people I had set eyes upon. She was the kind of woman with whom men become much infatuated. She would never make a fool of herself by letting her emotions run away with her, because she had no emotions, but lived in a sea of unruffled self-consciousness and self-confidence. Any man would be proud to introduce her as his wife to his friends whom he had brought home to dinner. She would adorn the head of his table. She would never worry him with silly ideas. She would never act with impropriety. She would never become a companion to her husband. Bah, a man does not want his wife to be a companion! There were myths and fables in the old day; so there are now. The story that men like a companion as well as a wife is an up-to-date one. This train of thought was interrupted by our host, who appeared in the doorway, clad from sole to neck in white. We steered for the dining-room—twenty-two all told—thirteen men and nine representatives of the other sex. Aunt Helen got one seat of honour near the head of the table and Miss Derrick another. I drifted to the foot among the unimportant younger fry, where we had no end of fun and idle chatter. We had to wait on ourselves, and as all formality was dispensed with, it was something like a picnic. The heat was excessive. Every window and door were open, and the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold<|quote|>“requested the pleasure”</|quote|>of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, | the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold<|quote|>“requested the pleasure”</|quote|>of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, | My Brilliant Career |
of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. | No speaker | couples. Harold “requested the pleasure”<|quote|>of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal.</|quote|>“Believe me, if I felt | floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure”<|quote|>of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal.</|quote|>“Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would | no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure”<|quote|>of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal.</|quote|>“Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, | of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure”<|quote|>of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal.</|quote|>“Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in | or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure”<|quote|>of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal.</|quote|>“Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure | excessive. Every window and door were open, and the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure”<|quote|>of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal.</|quote|>“Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow | white muslin dress was as overshadowed as a little white handkerchief would be in comparison to a gorgeous shawl heavily wrought in silks and velvet. She was given the best seat as though she were a princess. She sat down with great indifference, twirled a bracelet round her wrist, languidly opened her fan, and closed her eyes as she wafted it slowly to and fro. “By Jove, isn’t she a splendid creature?” enthusiastically whispered a gentleman sitting beside me. I looked at her critically. She was very big, and in a bony stiff way was much developed in figure. She had a nice big nose, and a long well-shaped face, a thin straight mouth, and empty light eyes. If my attention had not been called to her I would not have noticed her one way or the other, but being pointed to as a beauty, I weighed her according to my idea of facial charm, and pronounced her one of the most insipid-looking people I had set eyes upon. She was the kind of woman with whom men become much infatuated. She would never make a fool of herself by letting her emotions run away with her, because she had no emotions, but lived in a sea of unruffled self-consciousness and self-confidence. Any man would be proud to introduce her as his wife to his friends whom he had brought home to dinner. She would adorn the head of his table. She would never worry him with silly ideas. She would never act with impropriety. She would never become a companion to her husband. Bah, a man does not want his wife to be a companion! There were myths and fables in the old day; so there are now. The story that men like a companion as well as a wife is an up-to-date one. This train of thought was interrupted by our host, who appeared in the doorway, clad from sole to neck in white. We steered for the dining-room—twenty-two all told—thirteen men and nine representatives of the other sex. Aunt Helen got one seat of honour near the head of the table and Miss Derrick another. I drifted to the foot among the unimportant younger fry, where we had no end of fun and idle chatter. We had to wait on ourselves, and as all formality was dispensed with, it was something like a picnic. The heat was excessive. Every window and door were open, and the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure”<|quote|>of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal.</|quote|>“Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half | for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure”<|quote|>of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal.</|quote|>“Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here | My Brilliant Career |
“Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” | Sybylla Melvyn | would not take a refusal.<|quote|>“Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.”</|quote|>“Allow me to be the | that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal.<|quote|>“Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.”</|quote|>“Allow me to be the best judge of what is | “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal.<|quote|>“Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.”</|quote|>“Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you | no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal.<|quote|>“Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.”</|quote|>“Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the | long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal.<|quote|>“Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.”</|quote|>“Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. | faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal.<|quote|>“Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.”</|quote|>“Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from | comparison to a gorgeous shawl heavily wrought in silks and velvet. She was given the best seat as though she were a princess. She sat down with great indifference, twirled a bracelet round her wrist, languidly opened her fan, and closed her eyes as she wafted it slowly to and fro. “By Jove, isn’t she a splendid creature?” enthusiastically whispered a gentleman sitting beside me. I looked at her critically. She was very big, and in a bony stiff way was much developed in figure. She had a nice big nose, and a long well-shaped face, a thin straight mouth, and empty light eyes. If my attention had not been called to her I would not have noticed her one way or the other, but being pointed to as a beauty, I weighed her according to my idea of facial charm, and pronounced her one of the most insipid-looking people I had set eyes upon. She was the kind of woman with whom men become much infatuated. She would never make a fool of herself by letting her emotions run away with her, because she had no emotions, but lived in a sea of unruffled self-consciousness and self-confidence. Any man would be proud to introduce her as his wife to his friends whom he had brought home to dinner. She would adorn the head of his table. She would never worry him with silly ideas. She would never act with impropriety. She would never become a companion to her husband. Bah, a man does not want his wife to be a companion! There were myths and fables in the old day; so there are now. The story that men like a companion as well as a wife is an up-to-date one. This train of thought was interrupted by our host, who appeared in the doorway, clad from sole to neck in white. We steered for the dining-room—twenty-two all told—thirteen men and nine representatives of the other sex. Aunt Helen got one seat of honour near the head of the table and Miss Derrick another. I drifted to the foot among the unimportant younger fry, where we had no end of fun and idle chatter. We had to wait on ourselves, and as all formality was dispensed with, it was something like a picnic. The heat was excessive. Every window and door were open, and the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal.<|quote|>“Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.”</|quote|>“Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers | and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal.<|quote|>“Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.”</|quote|>“Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, | My Brilliant Career |
“Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” | Harold Beecham | be no pleasure to you.”<|quote|>“Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,”</|quote|>he said, quietly placing me | I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.”<|quote|>“Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,”</|quote|>he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me | a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.”<|quote|>“Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,”</|quote|>he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” | a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.”<|quote|>“Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,”</|quote|>he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, | and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.”<|quote|>“Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,”</|quote|>he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. | drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.”<|quote|>“Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,”</|quote|>he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he | princess. She sat down with great indifference, twirled a bracelet round her wrist, languidly opened her fan, and closed her eyes as she wafted it slowly to and fro. “By Jove, isn’t she a splendid creature?” enthusiastically whispered a gentleman sitting beside me. I looked at her critically. She was very big, and in a bony stiff way was much developed in figure. She had a nice big nose, and a long well-shaped face, a thin straight mouth, and empty light eyes. If my attention had not been called to her I would not have noticed her one way or the other, but being pointed to as a beauty, I weighed her according to my idea of facial charm, and pronounced her one of the most insipid-looking people I had set eyes upon. She was the kind of woman with whom men become much infatuated. She would never make a fool of herself by letting her emotions run away with her, because she had no emotions, but lived in a sea of unruffled self-consciousness and self-confidence. Any man would be proud to introduce her as his wife to his friends whom he had brought home to dinner. She would adorn the head of his table. She would never worry him with silly ideas. She would never act with impropriety. She would never become a companion to her husband. Bah, a man does not want his wife to be a companion! There were myths and fables in the old day; so there are now. The story that men like a companion as well as a wife is an up-to-date one. This train of thought was interrupted by our host, who appeared in the doorway, clad from sole to neck in white. We steered for the dining-room—twenty-two all told—thirteen men and nine representatives of the other sex. Aunt Helen got one seat of honour near the head of the table and Miss Derrick another. I drifted to the foot among the unimportant younger fry, where we had no end of fun and idle chatter. We had to wait on ourselves, and as all formality was dispensed with, it was something like a picnic. The heat was excessive. Every window and door were open, and the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.”<|quote|>“Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,”</|quote|>he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows | the doorway, clad from sole to neck in white. We steered for the dining-room—twenty-two all told—thirteen men and nine representatives of the other sex. Aunt Helen got one seat of honour near the head of the table and Miss Derrick another. I drifted to the foot among the unimportant younger fry, where we had no end of fun and idle chatter. We had to wait on ourselves, and as all formality was dispensed with, it was something like a picnic. The heat was excessive. Every window and door were open, and the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.”<|quote|>“Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,”</|quote|>he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he | My Brilliant Career |
he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. | No speaker | is a pleasure to me,”<|quote|>he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden.</|quote|>“I am sorry that I | the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,”<|quote|>he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden.</|quote|>“I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to | of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,”<|quote|>he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden.</|quote|>“I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained | no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,”<|quote|>he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden.</|quote|>“I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on | very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,”<|quote|>he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden.</|quote|>“I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become | the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,”<|quote|>he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden.</|quote|>“I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to | opened her fan, and closed her eyes as she wafted it slowly to and fro. “By Jove, isn’t she a splendid creature?” enthusiastically whispered a gentleman sitting beside me. I looked at her critically. She was very big, and in a bony stiff way was much developed in figure. She had a nice big nose, and a long well-shaped face, a thin straight mouth, and empty light eyes. If my attention had not been called to her I would not have noticed her one way or the other, but being pointed to as a beauty, I weighed her according to my idea of facial charm, and pronounced her one of the most insipid-looking people I had set eyes upon. She was the kind of woman with whom men become much infatuated. She would never make a fool of herself by letting her emotions run away with her, because she had no emotions, but lived in a sea of unruffled self-consciousness and self-confidence. Any man would be proud to introduce her as his wife to his friends whom he had brought home to dinner. She would adorn the head of his table. She would never worry him with silly ideas. She would never act with impropriety. She would never become a companion to her husband. Bah, a man does not want his wife to be a companion! There were myths and fables in the old day; so there are now. The story that men like a companion as well as a wife is an up-to-date one. This train of thought was interrupted by our host, who appeared in the doorway, clad from sole to neck in white. We steered for the dining-room—twenty-two all told—thirteen men and nine representatives of the other sex. Aunt Helen got one seat of honour near the head of the table and Miss Derrick another. I drifted to the foot among the unimportant younger fry, where we had no end of fun and idle chatter. We had to wait on ourselves, and as all formality was dispensed with, it was something like a picnic. The heat was excessive. Every window and door were open, and the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,”<|quote|>he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden.</|quote|>“I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though | scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,”<|quote|>he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden.</|quote|>“I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with | My Brilliant Career |
“I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” | Harold Beecham | open window into the garden.<|quote|>“I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,”</|quote|>were his words. I followed | room, and then through an open window into the garden.<|quote|>“I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,”</|quote|>were his words. I followed him in the direction of | would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden.<|quote|>“I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,”</|quote|>were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, | long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden.<|quote|>“I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,”</|quote|>were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: | their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden.<|quote|>“I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,”</|quote|>were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me | joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden.<|quote|>“I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,”</|quote|>were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that | whispered a gentleman sitting beside me. I looked at her critically. She was very big, and in a bony stiff way was much developed in figure. She had a nice big nose, and a long well-shaped face, a thin straight mouth, and empty light eyes. If my attention had not been called to her I would not have noticed her one way or the other, but being pointed to as a beauty, I weighed her according to my idea of facial charm, and pronounced her one of the most insipid-looking people I had set eyes upon. She was the kind of woman with whom men become much infatuated. She would never make a fool of herself by letting her emotions run away with her, because she had no emotions, but lived in a sea of unruffled self-consciousness and self-confidence. Any man would be proud to introduce her as his wife to his friends whom he had brought home to dinner. She would adorn the head of his table. She would never worry him with silly ideas. She would never act with impropriety. She would never become a companion to her husband. Bah, a man does not want his wife to be a companion! There were myths and fables in the old day; so there are now. The story that men like a companion as well as a wife is an up-to-date one. This train of thought was interrupted by our host, who appeared in the doorway, clad from sole to neck in white. We steered for the dining-room—twenty-two all told—thirteen men and nine representatives of the other sex. Aunt Helen got one seat of honour near the head of the table and Miss Derrick another. I drifted to the foot among the unimportant younger fry, where we had no end of fun and idle chatter. We had to wait on ourselves, and as all formality was dispensed with, it was something like a picnic. The heat was excessive. Every window and door were open, and the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden.<|quote|>“I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,”</|quote|>were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus | Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden.<|quote|>“I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,”</|quote|>were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. | My Brilliant Career |
were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: | No speaker | strike a bargain with you,”<|quote|>were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said:</|quote|>“It is no use of | my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,”<|quote|>were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said:</|quote|>“It is no use of me making a long yarn | he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,”<|quote|>were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said:</|quote|>“It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. | of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,”<|quote|>were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said:</|quote|>“It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me | of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,”<|quote|>were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said:</|quote|>“It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you | it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,”<|quote|>were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said:</|quote|>“It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping | had a nice big nose, and a long well-shaped face, a thin straight mouth, and empty light eyes. If my attention had not been called to her I would not have noticed her one way or the other, but being pointed to as a beauty, I weighed her according to my idea of facial charm, and pronounced her one of the most insipid-looking people I had set eyes upon. She was the kind of woman with whom men become much infatuated. She would never make a fool of herself by letting her emotions run away with her, because she had no emotions, but lived in a sea of unruffled self-consciousness and self-confidence. Any man would be proud to introduce her as his wife to his friends whom he had brought home to dinner. She would adorn the head of his table. She would never worry him with silly ideas. She would never act with impropriety. She would never become a companion to her husband. Bah, a man does not want his wife to be a companion! There were myths and fables in the old day; so there are now. The story that men like a companion as well as a wife is an up-to-date one. This train of thought was interrupted by our host, who appeared in the doorway, clad from sole to neck in white. We steered for the dining-room—twenty-two all told—thirteen men and nine representatives of the other sex. Aunt Helen got one seat of honour near the head of the table and Miss Derrick another. I drifted to the foot among the unimportant younger fry, where we had no end of fun and idle chatter. We had to wait on ourselves, and as all formality was dispensed with, it was something like a picnic. The heat was excessive. Every window and door were open, and the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,”<|quote|>were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said:</|quote|>“It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress | the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,”<|quote|>were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said:</|quote|>“It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I | My Brilliant Career |
“It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” | Harold Beecham | and, facing me, he said:<|quote|>“It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?”</|quote|>This was an experience in | the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said:<|quote|>“It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?”</|quote|>This was an experience in love. He did not turn | facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said:<|quote|>“It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?”</|quote|>This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion | were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said:<|quote|>“It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?”</|quote|>This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this | of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said:<|quote|>“It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?”</|quote|>This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. | or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said:<|quote|>“It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?”</|quote|>This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air | no emotions, but lived in a sea of unruffled self-consciousness and self-confidence. Any man would be proud to introduce her as his wife to his friends whom he had brought home to dinner. She would adorn the head of his table. She would never worry him with silly ideas. She would never act with impropriety. She would never become a companion to her husband. Bah, a man does not want his wife to be a companion! There were myths and fables in the old day; so there are now. The story that men like a companion as well as a wife is an up-to-date one. This train of thought was interrupted by our host, who appeared in the doorway, clad from sole to neck in white. We steered for the dining-room—twenty-two all told—thirteen men and nine representatives of the other sex. Aunt Helen got one seat of honour near the head of the table and Miss Derrick another. I drifted to the foot among the unimportant younger fry, where we had no end of fun and idle chatter. We had to wait on ourselves, and as all formality was dispensed with, it was something like a picnic. The heat was excessive. Every window and door were open, and the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said:<|quote|>“It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?”</|quote|>This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. | spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said:<|quote|>“It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?”</|quote|>This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have | My Brilliant Career |
This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. | No speaker | it be yes or no?”<|quote|>This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me.</|quote|>“Is this not rather sudden? | a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?”<|quote|>This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me.</|quote|>“Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no | apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?”<|quote|>This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me.</|quote|>“Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t | sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?”<|quote|>This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me.</|quote|>“Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to | what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?”<|quote|>This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me.</|quote|>“Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk | on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?”<|quote|>This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me.</|quote|>“Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache | worry him with silly ideas. She would never act with impropriety. She would never become a companion to her husband. Bah, a man does not want his wife to be a companion! There were myths and fables in the old day; so there are now. The story that men like a companion as well as a wife is an up-to-date one. This train of thought was interrupted by our host, who appeared in the doorway, clad from sole to neck in white. We steered for the dining-room—twenty-two all told—thirteen men and nine representatives of the other sex. Aunt Helen got one seat of honour near the head of the table and Miss Derrick another. I drifted to the foot among the unimportant younger fry, where we had no end of fun and idle chatter. We had to wait on ourselves, and as all formality was dispensed with, it was something like a picnic. The heat was excessive. Every window and door were open, and the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?”<|quote|>This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me.</|quote|>“Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. | minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?”<|quote|>This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me.</|quote|>“Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the | My Brilliant Career |
“Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” | Sybylla Melvyn | His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me.<|quote|>“Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,”</|quote|>I stammered. “I didn’t think | curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me.<|quote|>“Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,”</|quote|>I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any | more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me.<|quote|>“Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,”</|quote|>I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for | or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me.<|quote|>“Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,”</|quote|>I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me | was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me.<|quote|>“Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,”</|quote|>I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next | now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me.<|quote|>“Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,”</|quote|>I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had | Helen got one seat of honour near the head of the table and Miss Derrick another. I drifted to the foot among the unimportant younger fry, where we had no end of fun and idle chatter. We had to wait on ourselves, and as all formality was dispensed with, it was something like a picnic. The heat was excessive. Every window and door were open, and the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me.<|quote|>“Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,”</|quote|>I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he | conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me.<|quote|>“Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,”</|quote|>I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great | My Brilliant Career |
I stammered. | No speaker | no intimation of your intentions,”<|quote|>I stammered.</|quote|>“I didn’t think it wise | sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,”<|quote|>I stammered.</|quote|>“I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he | as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,”<|quote|>I stammered.</|quote|>“I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He | white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,”<|quote|>I stammered.</|quote|>“I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the | and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,”<|quote|>I stammered.</|quote|>“I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You | said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,”<|quote|>I stammered.</|quote|>“I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the | Derrick another. I drifted to the foot among the unimportant younger fry, where we had no end of fun and idle chatter. We had to wait on ourselves, and as all formality was dispensed with, it was something like a picnic. The heat was excessive. Every window and door were open, and the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,”<|quote|>I stammered.</|quote|>“I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within | pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,”<|quote|>I stammered.</|quote|>“I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my | My Brilliant Career |
“I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” | Harold Beecham | of your intentions,” I stammered.<|quote|>“I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,”</|quote|>he replied. “Surely you have | have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered.<|quote|>“I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,”</|quote|>he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving | had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered.<|quote|>“I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,”</|quote|>he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which | yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered.<|quote|>“I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,”</|quote|>he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said | things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered.<|quote|>“I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,”</|quote|>he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here | of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered.<|quote|>“I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,”</|quote|>he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the | I drifted to the foot among the unimportant younger fry, where we had no end of fun and idle chatter. We had to wait on ourselves, and as all formality was dispensed with, it was something like a picnic. The heat was excessive. Every window and door were open, and the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered.<|quote|>“I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,”</|quote|>he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the | of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered.<|quote|>“I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,”</|quote|>he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my | My Brilliant Career |
he replied. | No speaker | wise to dawdle any longer,”<|quote|>he replied.</|quote|>“Surely you have known what | stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,”<|quote|>he replied.</|quote|>“Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever | as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,”<|quote|>he replied.</|quote|>“Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have | or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,”<|quote|>he replied.</|quote|>“Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I | brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,”<|quote|>he replied.</|quote|>“Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. | and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,”<|quote|>he replied.</|quote|>“Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from | fry, where we had no end of fun and idle chatter. We had to wait on ourselves, and as all formality was dispensed with, it was something like a picnic. The heat was excessive. Every window and door were open, and the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,”<|quote|>he replied.</|quote|>“Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! | a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,”<|quote|>he replied.</|quote|>“Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white | My Brilliant Career |
“Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” | Harold Beecham | dawdle any longer,” he replied.<|quote|>“Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.”</|quote|>He spoke as usual in | didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied.<|quote|>“Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.”</|quote|>He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which | had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied.<|quote|>“Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.”</|quote|>He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without | or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied.<|quote|>“Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.”</|quote|>He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that | the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied.<|quote|>“Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.”</|quote|>He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for | we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied.<|quote|>“Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.”</|quote|>He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He | we had no end of fun and idle chatter. We had to wait on ourselves, and as all formality was dispensed with, it was something like a picnic. The heat was excessive. Every window and door were open, and the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied.<|quote|>“Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.”</|quote|>He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That | I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied.<|quote|>“Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.”</|quote|>He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The | My Brilliant Career |
He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, | No speaker | engaged to me for safety.”<|quote|>He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud,</|quote|>“I will become engaged to | I want you to be engaged to me for safety.”<|quote|>He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud,</|quote|>“I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, | stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.”<|quote|>He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud,</|quote|>“I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He | I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.”<|quote|>He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud,</|quote|>“I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he | a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.”<|quote|>He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud,</|quote|>“I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed | demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.”<|quote|>He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud,</|quote|>“I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and | and the balmy, almost imperceptible, zephyrs which faintly rustled the curtains and kissed our perspiration-beaded brows were rich with many scents from the wide old flower-garden, which, despite the drought, brought forth a wealth of blossom. When done eating we had to wash the dishes. Such a scamper ensued back and forwards to the kitchen, which rang with noise, and merriment. Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.”<|quote|>He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud,</|quote|>“I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! | apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.”<|quote|>He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud,</|quote|>“I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a | My Brilliant Career |
“I will become engaged to you;” | Sybylla Melvyn | felt annoyed. I said aloud,<|quote|>“I will become engaged to you;”</|quote|>to myself I added, “Just | least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud,<|quote|>“I will become engaged to you;”</|quote|>to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the | have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud,<|quote|>“I will become engaged to you;”</|quote|>to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards | replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud,<|quote|>“I will become engaged to you;”</|quote|>to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would | cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud,<|quote|>“I will become engaged to you;”</|quote|>to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the | open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud,<|quote|>“I will become engaged to you;”</|quote|>to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to | Everyone was helping, hindering, laughing, joking, teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud,<|quote|>“I will become engaged to you;”</|quote|>to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak | you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud,<|quote|>“I will become engaged to you;”</|quote|>to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had | My Brilliant Career |
to myself I added, | No speaker | will become engaged to you;”<|quote|>to myself I added,</|quote|>“Just for a little while, | annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;”<|quote|>to myself I added,</|quote|>“Just for a little while, the more to surprise and | No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;”<|quote|>to myself I added,</|quote|>“Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken | I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;”<|quote|>to myself I added,</|quote|>“Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, | or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;”<|quote|>to myself I added,</|quote|>“Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! | am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;”<|quote|>to myself I added,</|quote|>“Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. | teasing, and brimming over with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;”<|quote|>to myself I added,</|quote|>“Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He | “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;”<|quote|>to myself I added,</|quote|>“Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and | My Brilliant Career |
“Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” | Sybylla Melvyn | you;” to myself I added,<|quote|>“Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.”</|quote|>Now that I understand his | “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added,<|quote|>“Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.”</|quote|>Now that I understand his character I know that it | was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added,<|quote|>“Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.”</|quote|>Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other | ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added,<|quote|>“Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.”</|quote|>Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and | or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added,<|quote|>“Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.”</|quote|>Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it | haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added,<|quote|>“Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.”</|quote|>Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing | with fun and enjoyment. When we had completed this task, dancing was proposed. Some of the elderly and more sensible people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added,<|quote|>“Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.”</|quote|>Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know | will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added,<|quote|>“Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.”</|quote|>Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut | My Brilliant Career |
Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. | No speaker | you when the time comes.”<|quote|>Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return.</|quote|>“Thank you, Sybylla, that is | take the conceit out of you when the time comes.”<|quote|>Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return.</|quote|>“Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will | fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.”<|quote|>Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return.</|quote|>“Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any | want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.”<|quote|>Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return.</|quote|>“Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and | inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.”<|quote|>Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return.</|quote|>“Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had | with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.”<|quote|>Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return.</|quote|>“Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow | people said it was too hot, but all the young folks did not care a rap for the temperature. Harold had no objections, Miss Derrick was agreeable, Miss Benson announced herself ready and willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.”<|quote|>Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return.</|quote|>“Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something | through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.”<|quote|>Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return.</|quote|>“Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain | My Brilliant Career |
“Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” | Harold Beecham | had taken mine in return.<|quote|>“Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,”</|quote|>here he laughed. “I never | his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return.<|quote|>“Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,”</|quote|>here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes | little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return.<|quote|>“Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,”</|quote|>here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the | me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return.<|quote|>“Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,”</|quote|>here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He | A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return.<|quote|>“Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,”</|quote|>here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on | arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return.<|quote|>“Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,”</|quote|>here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the | willing, and Joe Archer said he was “leppin’” to begin, so we adjourned to the dancing-room and commenced operations. I played the piano for the first quadrille, and aunt Helen for the second dance. It was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return.<|quote|>“Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,”</|quote|>here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just | a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return.<|quote|>“Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,”</|quote|>here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all | My Brilliant Career |
here he laughed. | No speaker | nearly out of my wits,”<|quote|>here he laughed.</|quote|>“I never dreamt you would | Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,”<|quote|>here he laughed.</|quote|>“I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just | way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,”<|quote|>here he laughed.</|quote|>“I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an | said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,”<|quote|>here he laughed.</|quote|>“I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a | longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,”<|quote|>here he laughed.</|quote|>“I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from | burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,”<|quote|>here he laughed.</|quote|>“I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held | was most enjoyable. There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,”<|quote|>here he laughed.</|quote|>“I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief | sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,”<|quote|>here he laughed.</|quote|>“I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. | My Brilliant Career |
“I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” | Harold Beecham | my wits,” here he laughed.<|quote|>“I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.”</|quote|>He approached me and was | surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed.<|quote|>“I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.”</|quote|>He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I | meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed.<|quote|>“I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.”</|quote|>He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air | will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed.<|quote|>“I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.”</|quote|>He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the | “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed.<|quote|>“I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.”</|quote|>He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he | the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed.<|quote|>“I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.”</|quote|>He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had | There was a table at one end of the room on which was any amount of cherries, lollies, cake, dainties, beers, syrups, and glasses, where all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed.<|quote|>“I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.”</|quote|>He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the | he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed.<|quote|>“I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.”</|quote|>He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The | My Brilliant Career |
He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. | No speaker | lot of trouble with you.”<|quote|>He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven.</|quote|>“A less stinging rebuke would | thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.”<|quote|>He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven.</|quote|>“A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I | matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.”<|quote|>He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven.</|quote|>“A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other | when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.”<|quote|>He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven.</|quote|>“A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My | hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.”<|quote|>He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven.</|quote|>“A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It | apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.”<|quote|>He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven.</|quote|>“A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there | all could regale themselves without ceremony or bother every time the inclination seized them. Several doors and windows of the long room opened into the garden, and, provided one had no fear of snakes, it was delightful to walk amid the flowers and cool oneself between dances. A little exertion on such a night made us very hot. After the third dance the two old squatters, the horse-buyer, the clergyman, and Mr Benson disappeared. Judging from the hilarity of their demeanour and the killing odour of their breaths when they returned an hour or so later, during their absence they must have conscientiously sampled the contents of every whisky decanter on the dining-room sideboard. I could not dance, but had no lack of partners, as, ladies being in the minority, the gentlemen had to occasionally put up with their own sex in a dance. “Let’s take a breeze now and have a song or two, but no more dancing for a while,” said some of them; but Harold Beecham said, “One more turn, and then we will have a long spell and a change of programme.” He ordered Joe Archer to play a waltz, and the floor soon held several whirling couples. Harold “requested the pleasure” of me—the first time that night. I demurred. He would not take a refusal. “Believe me, if I felt competent, Mr Beecham, I would not refuse. I cannot dance. It will be no pleasure to you.” “Allow me to be the best judge of what is a pleasure to me,” he said, quietly placing me in position. He swung me once round the room, and then through an open window into the garden. “I am sorry that I haven’t had more time to look after you today. Come round into my room. I want to strike a bargain with you,” were his words. I followed him in the direction of a detached building in the garden. This was Harold’s particular domain. It contained three rooms—one a library and office, another an arsenal and deed-room, and the third, into which he led me, was a sort of sitting-room, containing a piano, facilities for washing, a table, easy-chairs, and other things. As we entered I noticed the lamp, burning brightly on the table, gleamed on the face of a clock on the wall, which pointed to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.”<|quote|>He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven.</|quote|>“A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I | plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.”<|quote|>He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven.</|quote|>“A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to | My Brilliant Career |
“A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” | Harold Beecham | kitten. The clock struck eleven.<|quote|>“A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.”</|quote|>Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, | for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven.<|quote|>“A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.”</|quote|>Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He | face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven.<|quote|>“A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.”</|quote|>Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I | me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven.<|quote|>“A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.”</|quote|>Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his | A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven.<|quote|>“A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.”</|quote|>Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern | I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven.<|quote|>“A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.”</|quote|>Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his | to half past ten. We stood beside the table, some distance apart, and, facing me, he said: “It is no use of me making a long yarn about nothing. I’m sure you know what I want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven.<|quote|>“A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.”</|quote|>Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered | whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven.<|quote|>“A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.”</|quote|>Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” | My Brilliant Career |
Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. | No speaker | considered such an unpardonable familiarity.”<|quote|>Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head.</|quote|>“It doesn’t matter, Syb. I | had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.”<|quote|>Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head.</|quote|>“It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to | held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.”<|quote|>Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head.</|quote|>“It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and | of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.”<|quote|>Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head.</|quote|>“It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of | he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.”<|quote|>Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head.</|quote|>“It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or | an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.”<|quote|>Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head.</|quote|>“It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a | want to say better than I do myself. You always are wonderfully smart at seeing through a fellow. Tell me, will it be yes or no?” This was an experience in love. He did not turn red or white, or yellow or green, nor did he tremble or stammer, or cry or laugh, or become fierce or passionate, or tender or anything but just himself, as I had always known him. He displayed no more emotion than had he been inviting me to a picnic. This was not as I had pictured a man would tell his love, or as I had read of it, heard of it, or wished it should be. A curious feeling—disappointment, perhaps—stole over me. His matter-of-fact coolness flabbergasted me. “Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your intentions,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it wise to dawdle any longer,” he replied. “Surely you have known what I’ve been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.”<|quote|>Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head.</|quote|>“It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse | I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.”<|quote|>Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head.</|quote|>“It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning | My Brilliant Career |
“It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” | Harold Beecham | hand lightly on my head.<|quote|>“It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.”</|quote|>I arose. I was giddy, | not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head.<|quote|>“It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.”</|quote|>I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but | possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head.<|quote|>“It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.”</|quote|>I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to | My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head.<|quote|>“It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.”</|quote|>I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You | eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head.<|quote|>“It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.”</|quote|>I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and | coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head.<|quote|>“It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.”</|quote|>I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me | clapped eyes on you. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to hurry you, only I want you to be engaged to me for safety.” He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head.<|quote|>“It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.”</|quote|>I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a | placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head.<|quote|>“It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.”</|quote|>I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put | My Brilliant Career |
I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. | No speaker | Jump up. That’s the girl.”<|quote|>I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed.</|quote|>“Good heavens, child, you are | lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.”<|quote|>I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed.</|quote|>“Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! | his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.”<|quote|>I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed.</|quote|>“Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll | sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.”<|quote|>I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed.</|quote|>“Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew | silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.”<|quote|>I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed.</|quote|>“Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. | had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.”<|quote|>I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed.</|quote|>“Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing | of love was uttered to me and none requested from me. I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.”<|quote|>I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed.</|quote|>“Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle | marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.”<|quote|>I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed.</|quote|>“Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what | My Brilliant Career |
“Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” | Sybylla Melvyn | his forgiveness, but I failed.<|quote|>“Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.”</|quote|>He held a glass of | nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed.<|quote|>“Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.”</|quote|>He held a glass of water to my lips and | one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed.<|quote|>“Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.”</|quote|>He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only | touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed.<|quote|>“Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.”</|quote|>He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go | attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed.<|quote|>“Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.”</|quote|>He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as | my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed.<|quote|>“Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.”</|quote|>He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why | least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I said aloud, “I will become engaged to you;” to myself I added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed.<|quote|>“Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.”</|quote|>He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it | enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed.<|quote|>“Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.”</|quote|>He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, | My Brilliant Career |
He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. | No speaker | to speak harshly to you.”<|quote|>He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank.</|quote|>“Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to | sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.”<|quote|>He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank.</|quote|>“Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you | arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.”<|quote|>He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank.</|quote|>“Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite | hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.”<|quote|>He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank.</|quote|>“Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” | action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.”<|quote|>He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank.</|quote|>“Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by | humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.”<|quote|>He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank.</|quote|>“Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a | added, “Just for a little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.”<|quote|>He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank.</|quote|>“Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being | a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.”<|quote|>He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank.</|quote|>“Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The | My Brilliant Career |
“Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” | Harold Beecham | my lips and I drank.<|quote|>“Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.”</|quote|>He had taken it quite | a glass of water to my lips and I drank.<|quote|>“Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.”</|quote|>He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, | me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank.<|quote|>“Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.”</|quote|>He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will | didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank.<|quote|>“Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.”</|quote|>He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the | felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank.<|quote|>“Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.”</|quote|>He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: | relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank.<|quote|>“Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.”</|quote|>He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, | the conceit out of you when the time comes.” Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me, and had taken mine in return. “Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank.<|quote|>“Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.”</|quote|>He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as | into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank.<|quote|>“Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.”</|quote|>He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was | My Brilliant Career |
He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. | No speaker | had something in your hand.”<|quote|>He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms.</|quote|>“Good gracious, you mustn’t stew | style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.”<|quote|>He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms.</|quote|>“Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! | my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.”<|quote|>He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms.</|quote|>“Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of | fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.”<|quote|>He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms.</|quote|>“Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of | that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.”<|quote|>He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms.</|quote|>“Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” | with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.”<|quote|>He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms.</|quote|>“Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had | that is all I want. We will talk about the matter more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.”<|quote|>He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms.</|quote|>“Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him | something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.”<|quote|>He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms.</|quote|>“Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all | My Brilliant Career |
“Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” | Harold Beecham | in the kindest possible terms.<|quote|>“Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.”</|quote|>He could have tied the | fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms.<|quote|>“Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.”</|quote|>He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it | of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms.<|quote|>“Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.”</|quote|>He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not | his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms.<|quote|>“Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.”</|quote|>He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by | could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms.<|quote|>“Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.”</|quote|>He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold | wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms.<|quote|>“Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.”</|quote|>He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted | to Caddagat next Sunday. You have surprised me nearly out of my wits,” here he laughed. “I never dreamt you would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have a lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms.<|quote|>“Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.”</|quote|>He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When | coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms.<|quote|>“Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.”</|quote|>He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is | My Brilliant Career |
He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: | No speaker | be a search-party after us.”<|quote|>He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once:</|quote|>“Good gracious, boy, what have | the others or there will be a search-party after us.”<|quote|>He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once:</|quote|>“Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks | as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.”<|quote|>He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once:</|quote|>“Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for | “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.”<|quote|>He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once:</|quote|>“Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, | didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.”<|quote|>He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once:</|quote|>“Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, | served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.”<|quote|>He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once:</|quote|>“Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early | lot of trouble with you.” He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical—the outcome of an overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand! As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.”<|quote|>He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once:</|quote|>“Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. | for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.”<|quote|>He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once:</|quote|>“Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as | My Brilliant Career |
“Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” | Miss Augusta | engaged. She exclaimed at once:<|quote|>“Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?”</|quote|>“Looks as if he had | one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once:<|quote|>“Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?”</|quote|>“Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” | one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once:<|quote|>“Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?”</|quote|>“Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them | injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once:<|quote|>“Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?”</|quote|>“Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and | He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once:<|quote|>“Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?”</|quote|>“Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but | that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once:<|quote|>“Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?”</|quote|>“Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a | weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once:<|quote|>“Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?”</|quote|>“Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what | hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once:<|quote|>“Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?”</|quote|>“Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting | My Brilliant Career |
“Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” | Aunt Helen | have you done to yourself?”<|quote|>“Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,”</|quote|>said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s | once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?”<|quote|>“Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,”</|quote|>said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s | into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?”<|quote|>“Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,”</|quote|>said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with | hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?”<|quote|>“Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,”</|quote|>said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to | fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?”<|quote|>“Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,”</|quote|>said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had | splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?”<|quote|>“Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,”</|quote|>said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up | saved his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?”<|quote|>“Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,”</|quote|>said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of | me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?”<|quote|>“Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,”</|quote|>said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake | My Brilliant Career |
said aunt Helen, smilingly. | No speaker | been interviewing a belligerent tramp,”<|quote|>said aunt Helen, smilingly.</|quote|>“He’s run into the clothes-line, | “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,”<|quote|>said aunt Helen, smilingly.</|quote|>“He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said | time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,”<|quote|>said aunt Helen, smilingly.</|quote|>“He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there | the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,”<|quote|>said aunt Helen, smilingly.</|quote|>“He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. | “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,”<|quote|>said aunt Helen, smilingly.</|quote|>“He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to | could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,”<|quote|>said aunt Helen, smilingly.</|quote|>“He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to | left cheek, had blinded the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,”<|quote|>said aunt Helen, smilingly.</|quote|>“He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; | that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,”<|quote|>said aunt Helen, smilingly.</|quote|>“He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the | My Brilliant Career |
“He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” | Miss Augusta | tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly.<|quote|>“He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,”</|quote|>said Miss Augusta confidently, after | had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly.<|quote|>“He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,”</|quote|>said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the | a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly.<|quote|>“He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,”</|quote|>said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up | paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly.<|quote|>“He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,”</|quote|>said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped | stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly.<|quote|>“He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,”</|quote|>said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really | within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly.<|quote|>“He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,”</|quote|>said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he | the left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly.<|quote|>“He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,”</|quote|>said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. | familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly.<|quote|>“He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,”</|quote|>said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond | My Brilliant Career |
said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. | No speaker | clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,”<|quote|>said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage.</|quote|>“You ought to get a | smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,”<|quote|>said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage.</|quote|>“You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” | absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,”<|quote|>said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage.</|quote|>“You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do | to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,”<|quote|>said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage.</|quote|>“You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why | tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,”<|quote|>said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage.</|quote|>“You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out | the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,”<|quote|>said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage.</|quote|>“You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in | the temple from which drops of blood were rolling down his cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,”<|quote|>said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage.</|quote|>“You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get | child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,”<|quote|>said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage.</|quote|>“You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a | My Brilliant Career |
“You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” | Harold Beecham | had peeped beneath the bandage.<|quote|>“You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,”</|quote|>said Harold laughing. “I told | Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage.<|quote|>“You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,”</|quote|>said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines | not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage.<|quote|>“You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,”</|quote|>said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It | we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage.<|quote|>“You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,”</|quote|>said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who | back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage.<|quote|>“You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,”</|quote|>said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs | hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage.<|quote|>“You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,”</|quote|>said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, | cheek and staining his white coat. A momentary gleam of anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage.<|quote|>“You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,”</|quote|>said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage | acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage.<|quote|>“You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,”</|quote|>said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. | My Brilliant Career |
said Harold laughing. | No speaker | bun for guessing, aunt Gus,”<|quote|>said Harold laughing.</|quote|>“I told them to put | “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,”<|quote|>said Harold laughing.</|quote|>“I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they | what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,”<|quote|>said Harold laughing.</|quote|>“I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he | I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,”<|quote|>said Harold laughing.</|quote|>“I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort | after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,”<|quote|>said Harold laughing.</|quote|>“I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against | know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,”<|quote|>said Harold laughing.</|quote|>“I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a | anger shot into his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,”<|quote|>said Harold laughing.</|quote|>“I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along | shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,”<|quote|>said Harold laughing.</|quote|>“I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small | My Brilliant Career |
“I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” | Miss Augusta | aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing.<|quote|>“I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.”</|quote|>“Perhaps they were put up | get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing.<|quote|>“I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.”</|quote|>“Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” | done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing.<|quote|>“I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.”</|quote|>“Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved | and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing.<|quote|>“I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.”</|quote|>“Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to | could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing.<|quote|>“I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.”</|quote|>“Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold | mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing.<|quote|>“I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.”</|quote|>“Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any | his eyes and he gave a gasp, whether of surprise, pain, or annoyance, I know not. He made a gesture towards me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing.<|quote|>“I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.”</|quote|>“Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” | have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing.<|quote|>“I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.”</|quote|>“Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy | My Brilliant Career |
“Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” | Harold Beecham | there would be an accident.”<|quote|>“Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,”</|quote|>remarked her nephew. “Let me | done with them. I knew there would be an accident.”<|quote|>“Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,”</|quote|>remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” | clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.”<|quote|>“Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,”</|quote|>remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my | the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.”<|quote|>“Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,”</|quote|>remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the | his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.”<|quote|>“Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,”</|quote|>remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he | disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.”<|quote|>“Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,”</|quote|>remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t | me. I half expected and fervently wished he would strike. The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.”<|quote|>“Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,”</|quote|>remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he | He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.”<|quote|>“Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,”</|quote|>remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my | My Brilliant Career |
remarked her nephew. | No speaker | high enough for ordinary purposes,”<|quote|>remarked her nephew.</|quote|>“Let me do something for | “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,”<|quote|>remarked her nephew.</|quote|>“Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, | she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,”<|quote|>remarked her nephew.</|quote|>“Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of | Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,”<|quote|>remarked her nephew.</|quote|>“Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish | I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,”<|quote|>remarked her nephew.</|quote|>“Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are | Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,”<|quote|>remarked her nephew.</|quote|>“Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper | The enormity of what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,”<|quote|>remarked her nephew.</|quote|>“Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement | of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,”<|quote|>remarked her nephew.</|quote|>“Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it | My Brilliant Career |
“Let me do something for you, dear.” | Miss Augusta | ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew.<|quote|>“Let me do something for you, dear.”</|quote|>“No, thank you, aunt Gus. | put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew.<|quote|>“Let me do something for you, dear.”</|quote|>“No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said | beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew.<|quote|>“Let me do something for you, dear.”</|quote|>“No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of | one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew.<|quote|>“Let me do something for you, dear.”</|quote|>“No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, | him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew.<|quote|>“Let me do something for you, dear.”</|quote|>“No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my | the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew.<|quote|>“Let me do something for you, dear.”</|quote|>“No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? | what I had done paralysed me. The whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew.<|quote|>“Let me do something for you, dear.”</|quote|>“No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! | me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew.<|quote|>“Let me do something for you, dear.”</|quote|>“No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got | My Brilliant Career |
“No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” | Harold Beecham | do something for you, dear.”<|quote|>“No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,”</|quote|>he said carelessly, and the | remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.”<|quote|>“No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,”</|quote|>he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was | a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.”<|quote|>“No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,”</|quote|>he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a | exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.”<|quote|>“No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,”</|quote|>he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, | handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.”<|quote|>“No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,”</|quote|>he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and | and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.”<|quote|>“No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,”</|quote|>he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the | whip fell from my fingers and I dropped on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.”<|quote|>“No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,”</|quote|>he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t | the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.”<|quote|>“No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,”</|quote|>he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down | My Brilliant Career |
he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. | No speaker | aunt Gus. It is nothing,”<|quote|>he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him.</|quote|>“Come,” he said, “we are | you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,”<|quote|>he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him.</|quote|>“Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you | laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,”<|quote|>he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him.</|quote|>“Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short | you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,”<|quote|>he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him.</|quote|>“Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity | open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,”<|quote|>he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him.</|quote|>“Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. | me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,”<|quote|>he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him.</|quote|>“Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” | on to a low lounge behind me, and placing my elbows on my knees crouchingly buried my face in my hands; my hair tumbled softly over my shoulders and reached the floor, as though to sympathetically curtain my humiliation. Oh, that Harold would thrash me severely! It would have infinitely relieved me. I had done a mean unwomanly thing in thus striking a man, who by his great strength and sex was debarred retaliation. I had committed a violation of self-respect and common decency; I had given a man an ignominious blow in the face with a riding-whip. And that man was Harold Beecham, who with all his strength and great stature was so wondrously gentle—who had always treated my whims and nonsense with something like the amused tolerance held by a great Newfoundland for the pranks of a kitten. The clock struck eleven. “A less stinging rebuke would have served your purpose. I had no idea that a simple caress from the man whose proposal of marriage you had just accepted would be considered such an unpardonable familiarity.” Harold’s voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,”<|quote|>he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him.</|quote|>“Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the | and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,”<|quote|>he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him.</|quote|>“Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it | My Brilliant Career |
“Come,” | Harold Beecham | by name. I answered him.<|quote|>“Come,”</|quote|>he said, “we are going | and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him.<|quote|>“Come,”</|quote|>he said, “we are going to dance; will you be | night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him.<|quote|>“Come,”</|quote|>he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; | of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him.<|quote|>“Come,”</|quote|>he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of | ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him.<|quote|>“Come,”</|quote|>he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I | so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him.<|quote|>“Come,”</|quote|>he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As | voice fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him.<|quote|>“Come,”</|quote|>he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size | a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him.<|quote|>“Come,”</|quote|>he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either | My Brilliant Career |
he said, | No speaker | name. I answered him. “Come,”<|quote|>he said,</|quote|>“we are going to dance; | Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,”<|quote|>he said,</|quote|>“we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” | was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,”<|quote|>he said,</|quote|>“we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I | the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,”<|quote|>he said,</|quote|>“we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to | purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,”<|quote|>he said,</|quote|>“we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got | that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,”<|quote|>he said,</|quote|>“we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched | fell clearly, calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,”<|quote|>he said,</|quote|>“we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our | clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,”<|quote|>he said,</|quote|>“we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was | My Brilliant Career |
“we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” | Harold Beecham | answered him. “Come,” he said,<|quote|>“we are going to dance; will you be my partner?”</|quote|>We danced, and then followed | me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said,<|quote|>“we are going to dance; will you be my partner?”</|quote|>We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and | and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said,<|quote|>“we are going to dance; will you be my partner?”</|quote|>We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the | they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said,<|quote|>“we are going to dance; will you be my partner?”</|quote|>We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following | her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said,<|quote|>“we are going to dance; will you be my partner?”</|quote|>We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang | could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said,<|quote|>“we are going to dance; will you be my partner?”</|quote|>We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite | calmly, cuttingly on the silence. He moved away to the other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said,<|quote|>“we are going to dance; will you be my partner?”</|quote|>We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll | ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said,<|quote|>“we are going to dance; will you be my partner?”</|quote|>We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all | My Brilliant Career |
We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: | No speaker | will you be my partner?”<|quote|>We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out:</|quote|>“I say, don’t frighten him | “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?”<|quote|>We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out:</|quote|>“I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling | I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?”<|quote|>We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out:</|quote|>“I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had | was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?”<|quote|>We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out:</|quote|>“I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had | thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?”<|quote|>We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out:</|quote|>“I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But | across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?”<|quote|>We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out:</|quote|>“I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than | other end of the room and I heard the sound of water. A desire filled me to tell him that I did not think he had attempted a familiarity, but that I had been mad. I wished to say I could not account for my action, but I was dumb. My tongue refused to work, and I felt as though I would choke. The splash of the water came from the other end of the room. I knew he must be suffering acute pain in his eye. A far lighter blow had kept me sleepless a whole night. A fear possessed me that I might have permanently injured his sight. The splash of water ceased. His footfall stopped beside me. I could feel he was within touching distance, but I did not move. Oh, the horrible stillness! Why did he not speak? He placed his hand lightly on my head. “It doesn’t matter, Syb. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I suppose you thought you couldn’t affect my dark, old, saddle-flap-looking phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?”<|quote|>We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out:</|quote|>“I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing | room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?”<|quote|>We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out:</|quote|>“I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not | My Brilliant Career |
“I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” | Harold Beecham | saw me and sang out:<|quote|>“I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.”</|quote|>“Why haven’t you, then? Hang | he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out:<|quote|>“I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.”</|quote|>“Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do | willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out:<|quote|>“I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.”</|quote|>“Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it | morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out:<|quote|>“I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.”</|quote|>“Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone | walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out:<|quote|>“I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.”</|quote|>“Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed | knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out:<|quote|>“I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.”</|quote|>“Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners | phiz. That is one of the disadvantages of being a big lumbering concern like I am. Jump up. That’s the girl.” I arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out:<|quote|>“I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.”</|quote|>“Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its | a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out:<|quote|>“I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.”</|quote|>“Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have | My Brilliant Career |
“Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” | Sybylla Melvyn | a crupper or a breastplate.”<|quote|>“Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.”</|quote|>He had dismounted, and had | and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.”<|quote|>“Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.”</|quote|>He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over | the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.”<|quote|>“Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.”</|quote|>He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of | to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.”<|quote|>“Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.”</|quote|>He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. | will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.”<|quote|>“Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.”</|quote|>He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, | something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.”<|quote|>“Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.”</|quote|>He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you | arose. I was giddy, and would have fallen but for Harold steadying me by the shoulder. I looked up at him nervously and tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.”<|quote|>“Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.”</|quote|>He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to | he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.”<|quote|>“Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.”</|quote|>He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to | My Brilliant Career |
He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. | No speaker | is going on like that.”<|quote|>He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence.</|quote|>“I came with nothing but | of you while the horse is going on like that.”<|quote|>He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence.</|quote|>“I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, | saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.”<|quote|>He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence.</|quote|>“I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. | distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.”<|quote|>He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence.</|quote|>“I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung | merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.”<|quote|>He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence.</|quote|>“I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of | a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.”<|quote|>He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence.</|quote|>“I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; | tried to ask his forgiveness, but I failed. “Good heavens, child, you are as white as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.”<|quote|>He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence.</|quote|>“I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the | of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.”<|quote|>He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence.</|quote|>“I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life | My Brilliant Career |
“I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” | Harold Beecham | a post of the fence.<|quote|>“I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,”</|quote|>he said good-humouredly. “Had I | thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence.<|quote|>“I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,”</|quote|>he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have | me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence.<|quote|>“I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,”</|quote|>he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I | he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence.<|quote|>“I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,”</|quote|>he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for | sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence.<|quote|>“I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,”</|quote|>he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side | slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence.<|quote|>“I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,”</|quote|>he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t | as a sheet! I was a beast to speak harshly to you.” He held a glass of water to my lips and I drank. “Great Jupiter, there’s nothing to worry about! I know you hadn’t the slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence.<|quote|>“I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,”</|quote|>he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she | he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence.<|quote|>“I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,”</|quote|>he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many | My Brilliant Career |
he said good-humouredly. | No speaker | been the death of me,”<|quote|>he said good-humouredly.</|quote|>“Had I been, my fortune | and all. You might have been the death of me,”<|quote|>he said good-humouredly.</|quote|>“Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I | had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,”<|quote|>he said good-humouredly.</|quote|>“Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an | me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,”<|quote|>he said good-humouredly.</|quote|>“Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. | us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,”<|quote|>he said good-humouredly.</|quote|>“Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large | chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,”<|quote|>he said good-humouredly.</|quote|>“Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me | slightest intention of hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,”<|quote|>he said good-humouredly.</|quote|>“Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me | who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,”<|quote|>he said good-humouredly.</|quote|>“Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our | My Brilliant Career |
“Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” | Sybylla Melvyn | of me,” he said good-humouredly.<|quote|>“Had I been, my fortune would have been made,”</|quote|>I replied. “How do you | might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly.<|quote|>“Had I been, my fortune would have been made,”</|quote|>I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as | had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly.<|quote|>“Had I been, my fortune would have been made,”</|quote|>I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, | out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly.<|quote|>“Had I been, my fortune would have been made,”</|quote|>I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for | the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly.<|quote|>“Had I been, my fortune would have been made,”</|quote|>I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let | all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly.<|quote|>“Had I been, my fortune would have been made,”</|quote|>I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put | hurting me. It’s nothing—I’ll be right in a few moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly.<|quote|>“Had I been, my fortune would have been made,”</|quote|>I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some | light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly.<|quote|>“Had I been, my fortune would have been made,”</|quote|>I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably | My Brilliant Career |
I replied. | No speaker | fortune would have been made,”<|quote|>I replied.</|quote|>“How do you make that | good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,”<|quote|>I replied.</|quote|>“How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as | the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,”<|quote|>I replied.</|quote|>“How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung | he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,”<|quote|>I replied.</|quote|>“How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which | with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,”<|quote|>I replied.</|quote|>“How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see | of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,”<|quote|>I replied.</|quote|>“How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger | moments. I’ve often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,”<|quote|>I replied.</|quote|>“How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, | confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,”<|quote|>I replied.</|quote|>“How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I | My Brilliant Career |
“How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” | Harold Beecham | have been made,” I replied.<|quote|>“How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.”</|quote|>“Everyone would be wanting to | I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied.<|quote|>“How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.”</|quote|>“Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great | “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied.<|quote|>“How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.”</|quote|>“Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for | me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied.<|quote|>“How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.”</|quote|>“Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I | eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied.<|quote|>“How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.”</|quote|>“Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew | virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied.<|quote|>“How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.”</|quote|>“Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we | often been amused at and have admired your touch-me-not style. You only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied.<|quote|>“How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.”</|quote|>“Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother | of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied.<|quote|>“How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.”</|quote|>“Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a | My Brilliant Career |
“Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” | Sybylla Melvyn | You’re as complimentary as ever.”<|quote|>“Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,”</|quote|>I answered. I gave him | do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.”<|quote|>“Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,”</|quote|>I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a | it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.”<|quote|>“Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,”</|quote|>I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, | breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.”<|quote|>“Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,”</|quote|>I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny | coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.”<|quote|>“Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,”</|quote|>I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he | their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.”<|quote|>“Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,”</|quote|>I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word | only forgot you had something in your hand.” He had taken it quite as a matter of fact, and was excusing me in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.”<|quote|>“Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,”</|quote|>I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare | a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.”<|quote|>“Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,”</|quote|>I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to | My Brilliant Career |
I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, | No speaker | I made away with you,”<|quote|>I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said,</|quote|>“Now, Syb, I’m ready for | and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,”<|quote|>I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said,</|quote|>“Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait | death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,”<|quote|>I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said,</|quote|>“Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me | like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,”<|quote|>I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said,</|quote|>“Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big | road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,”<|quote|>I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said,</|quote|>“Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; | was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,”<|quote|>I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said,</|quote|>“Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of | in the kindest possible terms. “Good gracious, you mustn’t stew over such a trifling accident! It’s nothing. Just tie this handkerchief on for me, please, and then we’ll go back to the others or there will be a search-party after us.” He could have tied the handkerchief just as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,”<|quote|>I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said,</|quote|>“Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and | the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,”<|quote|>I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said,</|quote|>“Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. | My Brilliant Career |
“Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” | Harold Beecham | settled himself, my companion said,<|quote|>“Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.”</|quote|>As he searched in his | old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said,<|quote|>“Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.”</|quote|>As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his | with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said,<|quote|>“Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.”</|quote|>As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things | been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said,<|quote|>“Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.”</|quote|>As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he | bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said,<|quote|>“Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.”</|quote|>As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the | inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said,<|quote|>“Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.”</|quote|>As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the | as well himself—it was only out of kindly tact he requested my services. I accepted his kindness gratefully. He sank on his knee so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said,<|quote|>“Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.”</|quote|>As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold | matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said,<|quote|>“Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.”</|quote|>As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do | My Brilliant Career |
As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. | No speaker | which I hope you’ll like.”<|quote|>As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it.</|quote|>“Let me see if it | got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.”<|quote|>As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it.</|quote|>“Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my | There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.”<|quote|>As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it.</|quote|>“Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want | that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.”<|quote|>As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it.</|quote|>“Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But | I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.”<|quote|>As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it.</|quote|>“Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you | “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.”<|quote|>As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it.</|quote|>“Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an | so that I could reach him, and I tied a large white handkerchief across the injured part. He could not open his eye, and hot water poured from it, but he made light of the idea of it paining. I was feeling better now, so we returned to the ballroom. The clock struck the half-hour after eleven as we left the room. Harold entered by one door and, I by another, and I slipped into a seat as though I had been there some time. There were only a few people in the room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.”<|quote|>As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it.</|quote|>“Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that | why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.”<|quote|>As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it.</|quote|>“Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to | My Brilliant Career |
“Let me see if it fits,” | Harold Beecham | many small gems surrounding it.<|quote|>“Let me see if it fits,”</|quote|>he said, taking my hand; | a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it.<|quote|>“Let me see if it fits,”</|quote|>he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. | much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it.<|quote|>“Let me see if it fits,”</|quote|>he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will | for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it.<|quote|>“Let me see if it fits,”</|quote|>he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in | made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it.<|quote|>“Let me see if it fits,”</|quote|>he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till | off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it.<|quote|>“Let me see if it fits,”</|quote|>he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse | room. The majority were absent—some love-making, others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it.<|quote|>“Let me see if it fits,”</|quote|>he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is | in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it.<|quote|>“Let me see if it fits,”</|quote|>he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, | My Brilliant Career |
he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. | No speaker | me see if it fits,”<|quote|>he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away.</|quote|>“No; don’t you put it | small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,”<|quote|>he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away.</|quote|>“No; don’t you put it on. That would make us | things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,”<|quote|>he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away.</|quote|>“No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. | like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,”<|quote|>he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away.</|quote|>“No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of | make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,”<|quote|>he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away.</|quote|>“No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make | opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,”<|quote|>he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away.</|quote|>“No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, | others playing cards. Miss Beecham was one who was not thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,”<|quote|>he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away.</|quote|>“No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact | time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,”<|quote|>he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away.</|quote|>“No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We | My Brilliant Career |
“No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” | Sybylla Melvyn | but I drew it away.<|quote|>“No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.”</|quote|>“Isn’t that what we intend | he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away.<|quote|>“No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.”</|quote|>“Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in | thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away.<|quote|>“No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.”</|quote|>“Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along | his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away.<|quote|>“No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.”</|quote|>“Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay | be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away.<|quote|>“No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.”</|quote|>“Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t | Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away.<|quote|>“No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.”</|quote|>“Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t | thus engaged. She exclaimed at once: “Good gracious, boy, what have you done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away.<|quote|>“No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.”</|quote|>“Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find | was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away.<|quote|>“No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.”</|quote|>“Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top | My Brilliant Career |
“Isn’t that what we intend to be?” | Harold Beecham | would make us irrevocably engaged.”<|quote|>“Isn’t that what we intend to be?”</|quote|>he said in a tone | you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.”<|quote|>“Isn’t that what we intend to be?”</|quote|>he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; | very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.”<|quote|>“Isn’t that what we intend to be?”</|quote|>he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until | on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.”<|quote|>“Isn’t that what we intend to be?”</|quote|>he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be | insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.”<|quote|>“Isn’t that what we intend to be?”</|quote|>he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by | I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.”<|quote|>“Isn’t that what we intend to be?”</|quote|>he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I | done to yourself?” “Looks as if he had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.”<|quote|>“Isn’t that what we intend to be?”</|quote|>he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with | while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.”<|quote|>“Isn’t that what we intend to be?”</|quote|>he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water | My Brilliant Career |
he said in a tone of surprise. | No speaker | what we intend to be?”<|quote|>he said in a tone of surprise.</|quote|>“Not just yet; that is | us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?”<|quote|>he said in a tone of surprise.</|quote|>“Not just yet; that is what I want to say | supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?”<|quote|>he said in a tone of surprise.</|quote|>“Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more | tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?”<|quote|>he said in a tone of surprise.</|quote|>“Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your | you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?”<|quote|>he said in a tone of surprise.</|quote|>“Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any | the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?”<|quote|>he said in a tone of surprise.</|quote|>“Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will | had been interviewing a belligerent tramp,” said aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?”<|quote|>he said in a tone of surprise.</|quote|>“Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return | him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?”<|quote|>he said in a tone of surprise.</|quote|>“Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” | My Brilliant Career |
“Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” | Sybylla Melvyn | in a tone of surprise.<|quote|>“Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.”</|quote|>“But what am I to | intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise.<|quote|>“Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.”</|quote|>“But what am I to do in the meantime?” he | sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise.<|quote|>“Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.”</|quote|>“But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use | disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise.<|quote|>“Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.”</|quote|>“But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let | invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise.<|quote|>“Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.”</|quote|>“But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. | broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise.<|quote|>“Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.”</|quote|>“But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of | aunt Helen, smilingly. “He’s run into the clothes-line, that’s what he’s done,” said Miss Augusta confidently, after she had peeped beneath the bandage. “You ought to get a bun for guessing, aunt Gus,” said Harold laughing. “I told them to put the clothes-lines up when they had done with them. I knew there would be an accident.” “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise.<|quote|>“Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.”</|quote|>“But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I | of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise.<|quote|>“Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.”</|quote|>“But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble | My Brilliant Career |
“But what am I to do in the meantime?” | Harold Beecham | have been to each other.”<|quote|>“But what am I to do in the meantime?”</|quote|>he asked, with amusement curving | be any more than we have been to each other.”<|quote|>“But what am I to do in the meantime?”</|quote|>he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. | want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.”<|quote|>“But what am I to do in the meantime?”</|quote|>he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” | it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.”<|quote|>“But what am I to do in the meantime?”</|quote|>he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three | here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.”<|quote|>“But what am I to do in the meantime?”</|quote|>he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size | more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.”<|quote|>“But what am I to do in the meantime?”</|quote|>he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a | “Perhaps they were put up high enough for ordinary purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.”<|quote|>“But what am I to do in the meantime?”</|quote|>he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, | swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.”<|quote|>“But what am I to do in the meantime?”</|quote|>he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting | My Brilliant Career |
he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. | No speaker | to do in the meantime?”<|quote|>he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth.</|quote|>“Do! Do the usual thing, | other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?”<|quote|>he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth.</|quote|>“Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay | months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?”<|quote|>he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth.</|quote|>“Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might | taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?”<|quote|>he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth.</|quote|>“Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our | he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?”<|quote|>he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth.</|quote|>“Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. | haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?”<|quote|>he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth.</|quote|>“Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping | purposes,” remarked her nephew. “Let me do something for you, dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?”<|quote|>he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth.</|quote|>“Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. | I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?”<|quote|>he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth.</|quote|>“Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so | My Brilliant Career |
“Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” | Sybylla Melvyn | the corners of his mouth.<|quote|>“Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.”</|quote|>“What’s your idea for this?” | he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth.<|quote|>“Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.”</|quote|>“What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making | end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth.<|quote|>“Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.”</|quote|>“What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? | you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth.<|quote|>“Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.”</|quote|>“What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we | had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth.<|quote|>“Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.”</|quote|>“What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have | then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth.<|quote|>“Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.”</|quote|>“What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what | dear.” “No, thank you, aunt Gus. It is nothing,” he said carelessly, and the matter dropped. Harold Beecham was not a man to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth.<|quote|>“Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.”</|quote|>“What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing | morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth.<|quote|>“Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.”</|quote|>“What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up | My Brilliant Career |
“What’s your idea for this?” | Harold Beecham | done with you at once.”<|quote|>“What’s your idea for this?”</|quote|>“It is no use making | special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.”<|quote|>“What’s your idea for this?”</|quote|>“It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might | any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.”<|quote|>“What’s your idea for this?”</|quote|>“It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” | of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.”<|quote|>“What’s your idea for this?”</|quote|>“It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an | being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.”<|quote|>“What’s your idea for this?”</|quote|>“It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, | dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.”<|quote|>“What’s your idea for this?”</|quote|>“It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as | to invite inquiry concerning himself. Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.”<|quote|>“What’s your idea for this?”</|quote|>“It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful | been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.”<|quote|>“What’s your idea for this?”</|quote|>“It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I | My Brilliant Career |
“It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” | Sybylla Melvyn | “What’s your idea for this?”<|quote|>“It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.”</|quote|>“Very well; so be it,” | done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?”<|quote|>“It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.”</|quote|>“Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might | been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?”<|quote|>“It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.”</|quote|>“Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three | that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?”<|quote|>“It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.”</|quote|>“Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He | ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?”<|quote|>“It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.”</|quote|>“Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was | bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?”<|quote|>“It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.”</|quote|>“Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch | Seeing I was unobserved by the company, I slipped away to indulge in my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?”<|quote|>“It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.”</|quote|>“Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears | beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?”<|quote|>“It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.”</|quote|>“Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no | My Brilliant Career |
“Very well; so be it,” | Harold Beecham | we might change our minds.”<|quote|>“Very well; so be it,”</|quote|>he said laughing. “I might | use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.”<|quote|>“Very well; so be it,”</|quote|>he said laughing. “I might have known you would have | he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.”<|quote|>“Very well; so be it,”</|quote|>he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if | months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.”<|quote|>“Very well; so be it,”</|quote|>he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, | a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.”<|quote|>“Very well; so be it,”</|quote|>he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to | a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.”<|quote|>“Very well; so be it,”</|quote|>he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s | my foolish habit of asking the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.”<|quote|>“Very well; so be it,”</|quote|>he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will | girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.”<|quote|>“Very well; so be it,”</|quote|>he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother | My Brilliant Career |
he said laughing. | No speaker | “Very well; so be it,”<|quote|>he said laughing.</|quote|>“I might have known you | we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,”<|quote|>he said laughing.</|quote|>“I might have known you would have things arranged different | the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,”<|quote|>he said laughing.</|quote|>“I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make | we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,”<|quote|>he said laughing.</|quote|>“I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried | that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,”<|quote|>he said laughing.</|quote|>“I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he | as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,”<|quote|>he said laughing.</|quote|>“I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently | the why and the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,”<|quote|>he said laughing.</|quote|>“I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here | got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,”<|quote|>he said laughing.</|quote|>“I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself | My Brilliant Career |
“I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” | Harold Beecham | be it,” he said laughing.<|quote|>“I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.”</|quote|>“No; I won’t let you | our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing.<|quote|>“I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.”</|quote|>“No; I won’t let you put a finger on me | his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing.<|quote|>“I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.”</|quote|>“No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an | At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing.<|quote|>“I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.”</|quote|>“No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top | thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing.<|quote|>“I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.”</|quote|>“No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, | so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing.<|quote|>“I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.”</|quote|>“No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, | the wherefore of things. Why had Harold Beecham (who was a sort of young sultan who could throw the handkerchief where he liked) chosen me of all women? I had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing.<|quote|>“I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.”</|quote|>“No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head | you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing.<|quote|>“I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.”</|quote|>“No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. | My Brilliant Career |
“No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” | Sybylla Melvyn | Let me put it on.”<|quote|>“No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.”</|quote|>He handed it to me | and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.”<|quote|>“No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.”</|quote|>He handed it to me again, and I tried it | “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.”<|quote|>“No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.”</|quote|>He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the | been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.”<|quote|>“No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.”</|quote|>He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it | many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.”<|quote|>“No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.”</|quote|>He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to | my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.”<|quote|>“No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.”</|quote|>He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what | had no charms to recommend me—none of the virtues which men demand of the woman they wish to make their wife. To begin with, I was small, I was erratic and unorthodox, I was nothing but a tomboy—and, cardinal disqualification, I was ugly. Why, then, had he proposed matrimony to me? Was it merely a whim? Was he really in earnest? The night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.”<|quote|>“No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.”</|quote|>He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept | he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.”<|quote|>“No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.”</|quote|>He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, | My Brilliant Career |
He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. | No speaker | and I’ll wear it sometimes.”<|quote|>He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands.</|quote|>“I’ll agree to your bargain,” | us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.”<|quote|>He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands.</|quote|>“I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be | three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.”<|quote|>He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands.</|quote|>“I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to | minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.”<|quote|>He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands.</|quote|>“I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can | three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.”<|quote|>He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands.</|quote|>“I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at | There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.”<|quote|>He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands.</|quote|>“I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing | night was soft and dark; after being out in it for a time I could discern the shrubs dimly silhouetted against the light. The music struck up inside again. A step approached me on the gravelled walk among the flowers, and Harold called me softly by name. I answered him. “Come,” he said, “we are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.”<|quote|>He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands.</|quote|>“I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up | rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.”<|quote|>He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands.</|quote|>“I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on | My Brilliant Career |
“I’ll agree to your bargain,” | Harold Beecham | the size of our hands.<|quote|>“I’ll agree to your bargain,”</|quote|>he said. “But you’ll be | heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands.<|quote|>“I’ll agree to your bargain,”</|quote|>he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all | me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands.<|quote|>“I’ll agree to your bargain,”</|quote|>he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he | Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands.<|quote|>“I’ll agree to your bargain,”</|quote|>he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, | amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands.<|quote|>“I’ll agree to your bargain,”</|quote|>he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. | his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands.<|quote|>“I’ll agree to your bargain,”</|quote|>he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time | are going to dance; will you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands.<|quote|>“I’ll agree to your bargain,”</|quote|>he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” | have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands.<|quote|>“I’ll agree to your bargain,”</|quote|>he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything | My Brilliant Career |
he said. | No speaker | “I’ll agree to your bargain,”<|quote|>he said.</|quote|>“But you’ll be really engaged | the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,”<|quote|>he said.</|quote|>“But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` | it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,”<|quote|>he said.</|quote|>“But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself | up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,”<|quote|>he said.</|quote|>“But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to | his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,”<|quote|>he said.</|quote|>“But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping | his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,”<|quote|>he said.</|quote|>“But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my | you be my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,”<|quote|>he said.</|quote|>“But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The | noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,”<|quote|>he said.</|quote|>“But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters | My Brilliant Career |
“But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` | Harold Beecham | to your bargain,” he said.<|quote|>“But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.`</|quote|>“Yes; under those conditions. Then | of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said.<|quote|>“But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.`</|quote|>“Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if | It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said.<|quote|>“But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.`</|quote|>“Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending | minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said.<|quote|>“But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.`</|quote|>“Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t | “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said.<|quote|>“But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.`</|quote|>“Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, | had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said.<|quote|>“But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.`</|quote|>“Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect | my partner?” We danced, and then followed songs and parlour games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said.<|quote|>“But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.`</|quote|>“Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at | his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said.<|quote|>“But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.`</|quote|>“Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. | My Brilliant Career |
“Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” | Sybylla Melvyn | to me all the same.`<|quote|>“Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.”</|quote|>On my suggesting that it | “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.`<|quote|>“Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.”</|quote|>On my suggesting that it was now time to go | to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.`<|quote|>“Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.”</|quote|>On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. | for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.`<|quote|>“Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.”</|quote|>On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, | me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.`<|quote|>“Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.”</|quote|>On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in | on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.`<|quote|>“Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.”</|quote|>On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself | games, and it was in the small hours when the merry goodnights were all said and we had retired to rest. Aunt Helen dropped to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.`<|quote|>“Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.”</|quote|>On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced | that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.`<|quote|>“Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.”</|quote|>On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with | My Brilliant Career |
On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. | No speaker | one will be the wiser.”<|quote|>On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance.</|quote|>“Just lead your horse underneath, | We can part, and no one will be the wiser.”<|quote|>On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance.</|quote|>“Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get | at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.”<|quote|>On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance.</|quote|>“Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, | and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.”<|quote|>On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance.</|quote|>“Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He | ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.”<|quote|>On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance.</|quote|>“Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm | of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.”<|quote|>On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance.</|quote|>“Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling | to sleep in a short time; but I lay awake listening to the soft distant call of the mopokes in the scrub beyond the stables. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE My Unladylike Behaviour Again Joe Archer was appointed to take us home on the morrow. When our host was seeing us off—still with his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.”<|quote|>On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance.</|quote|>“Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following | his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.”<|quote|>On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance.</|quote|>“Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that | My Brilliant Career |
“Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” | Sybylla Melvyn | it seemed an awkward performance.<|quote|>“Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,”</|quote|>I said. “No fear! Warrigal | one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance.<|quote|>“Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,”</|quote|>I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of | On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance.<|quote|>“Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,”</|quote|>I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving | at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance.<|quote|>“Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,”</|quote|>I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where | finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance.<|quote|>“Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,”</|quote|>I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and | see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance.<|quote|>“Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,”</|quote|>I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant | his eye covered—he took opportunity of whispering to me his intention of coming to Caddagat on the following Sunday. Early in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance.<|quote|>“Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,”</|quote|>I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any | engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance.<|quote|>“Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,”</|quote|>I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could | My Brilliant Career |
I said. | No speaker | to the ground quite easily,”<|quote|>I said.</|quote|>“No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand | on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,”<|quote|>I said.</|quote|>“No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t | and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,”<|quote|>I said.</|quote|>“No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, | engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,”<|quote|>I said.</|quote|>“No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was | it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,”<|quote|>I said.</|quote|>“No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself | That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,”<|quote|>I said.</|quote|>“No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my | in the afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,”<|quote|>I said.</|quote|>“No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any particular notice | pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,”<|quote|>I said.</|quote|>“No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I | My Brilliant Career |
“No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” | Harold Beecham | ground quite easily,” I said.<|quote|>“No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,”</|quote|>he returned, placing himself in | his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said.<|quote|>“No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,”</|quote|>he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped | to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said.<|quote|>“No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,”</|quote|>he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards | me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said.<|quote|>“No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,”</|quote|>he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as | but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said.<|quote|>“No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,”</|quote|>he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, | make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said.<|quote|>“No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,”</|quote|>he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been | afternoon of that day I took a book, and, going down the road some distance, climbed up a broad-branched willow-tree to wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said.<|quote|>“No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,”</|quote|>he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any particular notice of me. I flirted and frolicked with my other young men friends, but he did not care. I did not find | and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said.<|quote|>“No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,”</|quote|>he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part | My Brilliant Career |
he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, | No speaker | weight will quite squash me,”<|quote|>he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying,</|quote|>“shame! shame! You’ll come to | do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,”<|quote|>he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying,</|quote|>“shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, | but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,”<|quote|>he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying,</|quote|>“shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, | and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,”<|quote|>he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying,</|quote|>“shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. | arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,”<|quote|>he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying,</|quote|>“shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with | that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,”<|quote|>he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying,</|quote|>“shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head | wait for him. It was not long before he appeared at a smart canter. He did not see me in the tree, but his horse did, and propping, snorted wildly, and gave a backward run. Harold spurred him, he bucked spiritedly. Harold now saw me and sang out: “I say, don’t frighten him any more or he’ll fling me, saddle and all. I haven’t got a crupper or a breastplate.” “Why haven’t you, then? Hang on to him. I do like the look of you while the horse is going on like that.” He had dismounted, and had thrown the bridle rein over a post of the fence. “I came with nothing but a girth, and that loose, as it was so hot; and I was as near as twopence to being off, saddle and all. You might have been the death of me,” he said good-humouredly. “Had I been, my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,”<|quote|>he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying,</|quote|>“shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any particular notice of me. I flirted and frolicked with my other young men friends, but he did not care. I did not find him an ardent or a jealous lover. He was so irritatingly cool and matter-of-fact that I wished for the three months to pass so that I might be done with him, as I had come to the conclusion that he was barren of emotion or passion of any kind. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Sweet Seventeen Monday arrived—last day of November and seventeenth anniversary of my birth—and I celebrated it in a manner which I capitally enjoyed. It was the time of the annual muster at Cummabella—a cattle-station seventeen miles eastward from Caddagat—and all our men were there assisting. Word had been sent that a considerable number of beasts among those yarded bore the impress of the Bossier brand on their hides; so on Sunday afternoon uncle Jay-Jay had also proceeded thither to be in readiness for the final drafting early on Monday morning. This left us manless, as Frank Hawden, being incapacitated | then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,”<|quote|>he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying,</|quote|>“shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy | My Brilliant Career |
“shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” | Mrs. Bossier | at me with it, saying,<|quote|>“shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.”</|quote|>She pushed me from her | Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying,<|quote|>“shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.”</|quote|>She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned | luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying,<|quote|>“shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.”</|quote|>She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a | along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying,<|quote|>“shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.”</|quote|>She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, | but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying,<|quote|>“shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.”</|quote|>She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to | “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying,<|quote|>“shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.”</|quote|>She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you | my fortune would have been made,” I replied. “How do you make that out? You’re as complimentary as ever.” “Everyone would be wanting to engage me as the great noxious weed-killer and poisonous insect exterminator if I made away with you,” I answered. I gave him an invitation to take a seat with me, and accepting, he swung up with easy grace. There was any amount of accommodation for the two of us on the good-natured branches of the old willow-tree. When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying,<|quote|>“shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.”</|quote|>She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any particular notice of me. I flirted and frolicked with my other young men friends, but he did not care. I did not find him an ardent or a jealous lover. He was so irritatingly cool and matter-of-fact that I wished for the three months to pass so that I might be done with him, as I had come to the conclusion that he was barren of emotion or passion of any kind. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Sweet Seventeen Monday arrived—last day of November and seventeenth anniversary of my birth—and I celebrated it in a manner which I capitally enjoyed. It was the time of the annual muster at Cummabella—a cattle-station seventeen miles eastward from Caddagat—and all our men were there assisting. Word had been sent that a considerable number of beasts among those yarded bore the impress of the Bossier brand on their hides; so on Sunday afternoon uncle Jay-Jay had also proceeded thither to be in readiness for the final drafting early on Monday morning. This left us manless, as Frank Hawden, being incapacitated with a dislocated wrist, was spending a few weeks in Gool-Gool until he should be fit for work again. Uncle had not been gone an hour when a drover appeared to report that twenty thousand sheep would pass through on the morrow. Grass was precious. It would not do to let the sheep spread and dawdle at their drovers’ pleasure. There was not a man on the place; grannie was in a great stew; so I volunteered my services. At first | on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying,<|quote|>“shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.”</|quote|>She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. | My Brilliant Career |
She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. | No speaker | slightest trouble in that way.”<|quote|>She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household.</|quote|>“Grannie, I cannot say I | aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.”<|quote|>She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household.</|quote|>“Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to | room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.”<|quote|>She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household.</|quote|>“Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of | never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.”<|quote|>She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household.</|quote|>“Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as | been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.”<|quote|>She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household.</|quote|>“Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold | and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.”<|quote|>She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household.</|quote|>“Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any particular notice of me. I flirted and frolicked with my other young men friends, but he did not care. I did not find him an ardent or a jealous lover. He was so irritatingly cool and matter-of-fact that I wished for the three months to pass so that I might be done with him, as I had come to the conclusion that he was barren of emotion or passion of any kind. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Sweet | When he had settled himself, my companion said, “Now, Syb, I’m ready for you. Fire away. But wait a minute, I’ve got something here for you which I hope you’ll like.” As he searched in his pockets, I noticed that his eye had quite recovered, though there was still a slight mark on his cheek. He handed me a tiny morocco case, which on being opened disclosed a costly ring. I have about as much idea of the prices of things as a turkey would have. Perhaps that ring cost thirty pounds or possibly fifty guineas, for all I know. It was very heavy, and had a big diamond supported on either side by a large sapphire, and had many small gems surrounding it. “Let me see if it fits,” he said, taking my hand; but I drew it away. “No; don’t you put it on. That would make us irrevocably engaged.” “Isn’t that what we intend to be?” he said in a tone of surprise. “Not just yet; that is what I want to say to you. We will have three months’ probation to see how we get on. At the end of that time, if we manage to sail along smoothly, we’ll have the real thing; until then we will not be any more than we have been to each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.”<|quote|>She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household.</|quote|>“Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any particular notice of me. I flirted and frolicked with my other young men friends, but he did not care. I did not find him an ardent or a jealous lover. He was so irritatingly cool and matter-of-fact that I wished for the three months to pass so that I might be done with him, as I had come to the conclusion that he was barren of emotion or passion of any kind. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Sweet Seventeen Monday arrived—last day of November and seventeenth anniversary of my birth—and I celebrated it in a manner which I capitally enjoyed. It was the time of the annual muster at Cummabella—a cattle-station seventeen miles eastward from Caddagat—and all our men were there assisting. Word had been sent that a considerable number of beasts among those yarded bore the impress of the Bossier brand on their hides; so on Sunday afternoon uncle Jay-Jay had also proceeded thither to be in readiness for the final drafting early on Monday morning. This left us manless, as Frank Hawden, being incapacitated with a dislocated wrist, was spending a few weeks in Gool-Gool until he should be fit for work again. Uncle had not been gone an hour when a drover appeared to report that twenty thousand sheep would pass through on the morrow. Grass was precious. It would not do to let the sheep spread and dawdle at their drovers’ pleasure. There was not a man on the place; grannie was in a great stew; so I volunteered my services. At first she would not hear of such a thing, but eventually consented. With many injunctions to conduct myself with proper stiffness, I started early on Monday morning. I was clad in a cool blouse, a holland riding-skirt, and a big straw hat; was seated on a big bay horse, was accompanied by a wonderful sheep-dog, and carried a long heavy stock-whip. I sang and cracked my stock-whip as I cantered along, quite forgetting to be reserved and proper. Presently I came upon the sheep just setting out for their day’s tramp, with a black boy ahead of them, of whom I inquired which was the boss. He pointed towards a man at the rear wearing a donkey-supper hat. I made my way through the sheep in his direction, and asked if he were in charge of them. On being answered in the affirmative, I informed him that I was Mr Bossier’s niece, and, as the men were otherwise engaged, I would see the sheep through. “That’s all right, miss. I will look out that you don’t have much trouble,” he replied, politely raising his hat, while a look of amusement played on his face. He rode away, and shouted to his men to keep the flock strictly within bounds and make good travelling. “Right you are, boss,” they answered; and returning to | said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.”<|quote|>She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household.</|quote|>“Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any particular notice of me. I flirted and frolicked with my other young men friends, but he did not care. I did not find him an ardent or a jealous lover. He was so irritatingly cool and matter-of-fact that I wished for the three months to pass so that I might be done with him, as I had come to the conclusion that he was barren of emotion or passion of any kind. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Sweet Seventeen Monday arrived—last day of November and seventeenth anniversary of my birth—and I celebrated it in a manner which I capitally enjoyed. It was the time of the annual muster at Cummabella—a cattle-station seventeen miles eastward from Caddagat—and all our men were there assisting. Word had been sent that a considerable number of beasts among those yarded bore the impress of the Bossier brand on their hides; so on Sunday afternoon uncle Jay-Jay had also proceeded thither to be in readiness for the final drafting early on Monday morning. This left us manless, as Frank Hawden, being incapacitated with a dislocated wrist, was spending a few weeks in Gool-Gool until he should be fit for work again. Uncle had not been gone an hour when a drover appeared to report that twenty thousand sheep would pass through on the morrow. Grass was precious. It would not do to let the sheep spread and dawdle at their drovers’ pleasure. There was not a man on the place; grannie was in a great stew; so I volunteered my services. At first she would not hear of such a thing, but eventually consented. With many injunctions to conduct myself with | My Brilliant Career |
“Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” | Sybylla Melvyn | the society of the household.<|quote|>“Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,”</|quote|>I said. “Vexing me is | to my usual place in the society of the household.<|quote|>“Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,”</|quote|>I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of | and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household.<|quote|>“Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,”</|quote|>I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are | never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household.<|quote|>“Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,”</|quote|>I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay | hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household.<|quote|>“Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,”</|quote|>I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried | bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household.<|quote|>“Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,”</|quote|>I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any particular notice of me. I flirted and frolicked with my other young men friends, but he did not care. I did not find him an ardent or a jealous lover. He was so irritatingly cool and matter-of-fact that I wished for the three months to pass so that I might be done with him, as I had come to the conclusion that he was barren of emotion or passion of any kind. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Sweet Seventeen Monday arrived—last day of November and seventeenth anniversary of my birth—and I celebrated it in a manner which I capitally enjoyed. It was the time of the annual muster at Cummabella—a cattle-station seventeen miles eastward from Caddagat—and all our | each other.” “But what am I to do in the meantime?” he asked, with amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “Do! Do the usual thing, of course; but don’t pay me any special attentions, or I’ll be done with you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household.<|quote|>“Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,”</|quote|>I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any particular notice of me. I flirted and frolicked with my other young men friends, but he did not care. I did not find him an ardent or a jealous lover. He was so irritatingly cool and matter-of-fact that I wished for the three months to pass so that I might be done with him, as I had come to the conclusion that he was barren of emotion or passion of any kind. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Sweet Seventeen Monday arrived—last day of November and seventeenth anniversary of my birth—and I celebrated it in a manner which I capitally enjoyed. It was the time of the annual muster at Cummabella—a cattle-station seventeen miles eastward from Caddagat—and all our men were there assisting. Word had been sent that a considerable number of beasts among those yarded bore the impress of the Bossier brand on their hides; so on Sunday afternoon uncle Jay-Jay had also proceeded thither to be in readiness for the final drafting early on Monday morning. This left us manless, as Frank Hawden, being incapacitated with a dislocated wrist, was spending a few weeks in Gool-Gool until he should be fit for work again. Uncle had not been gone an hour when a drover appeared to report that twenty thousand sheep would pass through on the morrow. Grass was precious. It would not do to let the sheep spread and dawdle at their drovers’ pleasure. There was not a man on the place; grannie was in a great stew; so I volunteered my services. At first she would not hear of such a thing, but eventually consented. With many injunctions to conduct myself with proper stiffness, I started early on Monday morning. I was clad in a cool blouse, a holland riding-skirt, and a big straw hat; was seated on a big bay horse, was accompanied by a wonderful sheep-dog, and carried a long heavy stock-whip. I sang and cracked my stock-whip as I cantered along, quite forgetting to be reserved and proper. Presently I came upon the sheep just setting out for their day’s tramp, with a black boy ahead of them, of whom I inquired which was the boss. He pointed towards a man at the rear wearing a donkey-supper hat. I made my way through the sheep in his direction, and asked if he were in charge of them. On being answered in the affirmative, I informed him that I was Mr Bossier’s niece, and, as the men were otherwise engaged, I would see the sheep through. “That’s all right, miss. I will look out that you don’t have much trouble,” he replied, politely raising his hat, while a look of amusement played on his face. He rode away, and shouted to his men to keep the flock strictly within bounds and make good travelling. “Right you are, boss,” they answered; and returning to my side he told me his name was George Ledwood, and made some remarks about the great drought and so on, while we rode in the best places to keep out of the dust and in the shade. I asked | don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household.<|quote|>“Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,”</|quote|>I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any particular notice of me. I flirted and frolicked with my other young men friends, but he did not care. I did not find him an ardent or a jealous lover. He was so irritatingly cool and matter-of-fact that I wished for the three months to pass so that I might be done with him, as I had come to the conclusion that he was barren of emotion or passion of any kind. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Sweet Seventeen Monday arrived—last day of November and seventeenth anniversary of my birth—and I celebrated it in a manner which I capitally enjoyed. It was the time of the annual muster at Cummabella—a cattle-station seventeen miles eastward from Caddagat—and all our men were there assisting. Word had been sent that a considerable number of beasts among those yarded bore the impress of the Bossier brand on their hides; so on Sunday afternoon uncle Jay-Jay had also proceeded thither to be in readiness for the final drafting early on Monday morning. This left us manless, as Frank Hawden, being incapacitated with a dislocated wrist, was spending a few weeks in Gool-Gool until he should be fit for work again. Uncle had not been gone an hour when a drover appeared to report that twenty thousand sheep would pass through on the morrow. Grass was precious. It would not do to let the sheep spread and dawdle at their drovers’ pleasure. There was not a man on the place; grannie was in a great stew; so I volunteered my services. At first she would not hear of such a thing, but eventually consented. With many injunctions to conduct myself with proper stiffness, I started early on Monday morning. I was clad in a cool blouse, | My Brilliant Career |
I said. | No speaker | sorry that I vexed you,”<|quote|>I said.</|quote|>“Vexing me is not the | my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,”<|quote|>I said.</|quote|>“Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It | to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,”<|quote|>I said.</|quote|>“Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The | with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,”<|quote|>I said.</|quote|>“Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: | to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,”<|quote|>I said.</|quote|>“Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get | to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,”<|quote|>I said.</|quote|>“Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any particular notice of me. I flirted and frolicked with my other young men friends, but he did not care. I did not find him an ardent or a jealous lover. He was so irritatingly cool and matter-of-fact that I wished for the three months to pass so that I might be done with him, as I had come to the conclusion that he was barren of emotion or passion of any kind. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Sweet Seventeen Monday arrived—last day of November and seventeenth anniversary of my birth—and I celebrated it in a manner which I capitally enjoyed. It was the time of the annual muster at Cummabella—a cattle-station seventeen miles eastward from Caddagat—and all our men were | you at once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,”<|quote|>I said.</|quote|>“Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any particular notice of me. I flirted and frolicked with my other young men friends, but he did not care. I did not find him an ardent or a jealous lover. He was so irritatingly cool and matter-of-fact that I wished for the three months to pass so that I might be done with him, as I had come to the conclusion that he was barren of emotion or passion of any kind. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Sweet Seventeen Monday arrived—last day of November and seventeenth anniversary of my birth—and I celebrated it in a manner which I capitally enjoyed. It was the time of the annual muster at Cummabella—a cattle-station seventeen miles eastward from Caddagat—and all our men were there assisting. Word had been sent that a considerable number of beasts among those yarded bore the impress of the Bossier brand on their hides; so on Sunday afternoon uncle Jay-Jay had also proceeded thither to be in readiness for the final drafting early on Monday morning. This left us manless, as Frank Hawden, being incapacitated with a dislocated wrist, was spending a few weeks in Gool-Gool until he should be fit for work again. Uncle had not been gone an hour when a drover appeared to report that twenty thousand sheep would pass through on the morrow. Grass was precious. It would not do to let the sheep spread and dawdle at their drovers’ pleasure. There was not a man on the place; grannie was in a great stew; so I volunteered my services. At first she would not hear of such a thing, but eventually consented. With many injunctions to conduct myself with proper stiffness, I started early on Monday morning. I was clad in a cool blouse, a holland riding-skirt, and a big straw hat; was seated on a big bay horse, was accompanied by a wonderful sheep-dog, and carried a long heavy stock-whip. I sang and cracked my stock-whip as I cantered along, quite forgetting to be reserved and proper. Presently I came upon the sheep just setting out for their day’s tramp, with a black boy ahead of them, of whom I inquired which was the boss. He pointed towards a man at the rear wearing a donkey-supper hat. I made my way through the sheep in his direction, and asked if he were in charge of them. On being answered in the affirmative, I informed him that I was Mr Bossier’s niece, and, as the men were otherwise engaged, I would see the sheep through. “That’s all right, miss. I will look out that you don’t have much trouble,” he replied, politely raising his hat, while a look of amusement played on his face. He rode away, and shouted to his men to keep the flock strictly within bounds and make good travelling. “Right you are, boss,” they answered; and returning to my side he told me his name was George Ledwood, and made some remarks about the great drought and so on, while we rode in the best places to keep out of the dust and in the shade. I asked questions such | which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,”<|quote|>I said.</|quote|>“Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you | My Brilliant Career |
“Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” | Mrs. Bossier | I vexed you,” I said.<|quote|>“Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.”</|quote|>The dear old lady shook | but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said.<|quote|>“Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.”</|quote|>The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she | usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said.<|quote|>“Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.”</|quote|>The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address | men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said.<|quote|>“Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.”</|quote|>The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to | principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said.<|quote|>“Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.”</|quote|>The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking | what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said.<|quote|>“Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.”</|quote|>The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any particular notice of me. I flirted and frolicked with my other young men friends, but he did not care. I did not find him an ardent or a jealous lover. He was so irritatingly cool and matter-of-fact that I wished for the three months to pass so that I might be done with him, as I had come to the conclusion that he was barren of emotion or passion of any kind. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Sweet Seventeen Monday arrived—last day of November and seventeenth anniversary of my birth—and I celebrated it in a manner which I capitally enjoyed. It was the time of the annual muster at Cummabella—a cattle-station seventeen miles eastward from Caddagat—and all our men were there assisting. Word had been sent that a considerable number of beasts among those yarded bore the impress of the Bossier brand on their hides; so on Sunday afternoon uncle Jay-Jay had also proceeded thither to be in readiness for the final drafting early on Monday morning. This left | once.” “What’s your idea for this?” “It is no use making fools of ourselves; we might change our minds.” “Very well; so be it,” he said laughing. “I might have known you would have things arranged different from any other girl. But you’ll take the ring and wear it, won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said.<|quote|>“Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.”</|quote|>The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any particular notice of me. I flirted and frolicked with my other young men friends, but he did not care. I did not find him an ardent or a jealous lover. He was so irritatingly cool and matter-of-fact that I wished for the three months to pass so that I might be done with him, as I had come to the conclusion that he was barren of emotion or passion of any kind. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Sweet Seventeen Monday arrived—last day of November and seventeenth anniversary of my birth—and I celebrated it in a manner which I capitally enjoyed. It was the time of the annual muster at Cummabella—a cattle-station seventeen miles eastward from Caddagat—and all our men were there assisting. Word had been sent that a considerable number of beasts among those yarded bore the impress of the Bossier brand on their hides; so on Sunday afternoon uncle Jay-Jay had also proceeded thither to be in readiness for the final drafting early on Monday morning. This left us manless, as Frank Hawden, being incapacitated with a dislocated wrist, was spending a few weeks in Gool-Gool until he should be fit for work again. Uncle had not been gone an hour when a drover appeared to report that twenty thousand sheep would pass through on the morrow. Grass was precious. It would not do to let the sheep spread and dawdle at their drovers’ pleasure. There was not a man on the place; grannie was in a great stew; so I volunteered my services. At first she would not hear of such a thing, but eventually consented. With many injunctions to conduct myself with proper stiffness, I started early on Monday morning. I was clad in a cool blouse, a holland riding-skirt, and a big straw hat; was seated on a big bay horse, was accompanied by a wonderful sheep-dog, and carried a long heavy stock-whip. I sang and cracked my stock-whip as I cantered along, quite forgetting to be reserved and proper. Presently I came upon the sheep just setting out for their day’s tramp, with a black boy ahead of them, of whom I inquired which was the boss. He pointed towards a man at the rear wearing a donkey-supper hat. I made my way through the sheep in his direction, and asked if he were in charge of them. On being answered in the affirmative, I informed him that I was Mr Bossier’s niece, and, as the men were otherwise engaged, I would see the sheep through. “That’s all right, miss. I will look out that you don’t have much trouble,” he replied, politely raising his hat, while a look of amusement played on his face. He rode away, and shouted to his men to keep the flock strictly within bounds and make good travelling. “Right you are, boss,” they answered; and returning to my side he told me his name was George Ledwood, and made some remarks about the great drought and so on, while we rode in the best places to keep out of the dust and in the shade. I asked questions such as whence came the sheep? whither were they bound? and how long had they been on the road? And having exhausted these orthodox remarks, we fell a-talking in dead earnest without the least restraint. I listened with interest to stories of weeks and weeks spent beneath the sun and | I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said.<|quote|>“Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.”</|quote|>The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any particular notice of me. I flirted and frolicked with my other young men friends, but he did not care. I did not find him an ardent or a jealous lover. He was so irritatingly cool and matter-of-fact that I wished for the three months to pass so that I might be done with him, as I had come to the conclusion that he was barren of emotion or passion of any kind. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Sweet Seventeen Monday arrived—last day of November and seventeenth anniversary of my birth—and I celebrated it in a manner which I capitally enjoyed. It was the time of the annual muster at Cummabella—a cattle-station seventeen miles eastward from Caddagat—and all our men were there assisting. Word had been sent that a considerable number of beasts among those yarded bore the impress of the Bossier brand on their hides; so on Sunday afternoon uncle Jay-Jay had also proceeded thither to be in readiness for the final drafting early on Monday morning. This left us manless, as Frank Hawden, being incapacitated with a dislocated wrist, was spending a few weeks in Gool-Gool until he should be fit for work again. Uncle had not been gone an hour when a drover appeared to report that twenty thousand sheep would pass through on the morrow. Grass was precious. It would not do to let the sheep spread and dawdle at their drovers’ pleasure. There was not a man on the place; grannie was in a great stew; so I volunteered my services. At first she would not hear of such a thing, but eventually consented. With many injunctions to conduct myself with proper stiffness, I started early on Monday morning. I was clad in a cool blouse, a holland riding-skirt, and a big straw hat; was seated on a big bay horse, was accompanied by a | My Brilliant Career |
The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: | No speaker | sorry when you are not.”<|quote|>The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him:</|quote|>“Joe Archer told me you | do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.”<|quote|>The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him:</|quote|>“Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on | said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.”<|quote|>The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him:</|quote|>“Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old | my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.”<|quote|>The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him:</|quote|>“Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get | have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.”<|quote|>The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him:</|quote|>“Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any particular notice of me. I flirted and frolicked with my other young men friends, but he did | she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.”<|quote|>The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him:</|quote|>“Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any particular notice of me. I flirted and frolicked with my other young men friends, but he did not care. I did not find him an ardent or a jealous lover. He was so irritatingly cool and matter-of-fact that I wished for the three months to pass so that I might be done with him, as I had come to the conclusion that he was barren of emotion or passion of any kind. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Sweet Seventeen Monday arrived—last day of November and seventeenth anniversary of my birth—and I celebrated it in a manner which I capitally enjoyed. It was the time of the annual muster at Cummabella—a cattle-station seventeen miles eastward from Caddagat—and all our men were there assisting. Word had been sent that a considerable number of beasts among those yarded bore the impress of the Bossier brand on their hides; so on Sunday afternoon uncle Jay-Jay had also proceeded thither to be in readiness for the final drafting early on Monday morning. This left us manless, as Frank Hawden, being incapacitated with a dislocated wrist, was spending a few weeks in Gool-Gool until he should be fit for work again. Uncle had not been gone an hour when a drover appeared to report that twenty thousand sheep would pass through on the morrow. Grass was | won’t you? Let me put it on.” “No; I won’t let you put a finger on me till the three months are up. Then, if we definitely make up our minds, you can put it on; but till then, don’t for the life of you hint by word or sign that we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.”<|quote|>The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him:</|quote|>“Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any particular notice of me. I flirted and frolicked with my other young men friends, but he did not care. I did not find him an ardent or a jealous lover. He was so irritatingly cool and matter-of-fact that I wished for the three months to pass so that I might be done with him, as I had come to the conclusion that he was barren of emotion or passion of any kind. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Sweet Seventeen Monday arrived—last day of November and seventeenth anniversary of my birth—and I celebrated it in a manner which I capitally enjoyed. It was the time of the annual muster at Cummabella—a cattle-station seventeen miles eastward from Caddagat—and all our men were there assisting. Word had been sent that a considerable number of beasts among those yarded bore the impress of the Bossier brand on their hides; so on Sunday afternoon uncle Jay-Jay had also proceeded thither to be in readiness for the final drafting early on Monday morning. This left us manless, as Frank Hawden, being incapacitated with a dislocated wrist, was spending a few weeks in Gool-Gool until he should be fit for work again. Uncle had not been gone an hour when a drover appeared to report that twenty thousand sheep would pass through on the morrow. Grass was precious. It would not do to let the sheep spread and dawdle at their drovers’ pleasure. There was not a man on the place; grannie was in a great stew; so I volunteered my services. At first she would not hear of such a thing, but eventually consented. With many injunctions to conduct myself with proper stiffness, I started early on Monday morning. I was clad in a cool blouse, a holland riding-skirt, and a big straw hat; was seated on a big bay horse, was accompanied by a wonderful sheep-dog, and carried a long heavy stock-whip. I sang and cracked my stock-whip as I cantered along, quite forgetting to be reserved and proper. Presently I came upon the sheep just setting out for their day’s tramp, with a black boy ahead of them, of whom I inquired which was the boss. He pointed towards a man at the rear wearing a donkey-supper hat. I made my way through the sheep in his direction, and asked if he were in charge of them. On being answered in the affirmative, I informed him that I was Mr Bossier’s niece, and, as the men were otherwise engaged, I would see the sheep through. “That’s all right, miss. I will look out that you don’t have much trouble,” he replied, politely raising his hat, while a look of amusement played on his face. He rode away, and shouted to his men to keep the flock strictly within bounds and make good travelling. “Right you are, boss,” they answered; and returning to my side he told me his name was George Ledwood, and made some remarks about the great drought and so on, while we rode in the best places to keep out of the dust and in the shade. I asked questions such as whence came the sheep? whither were they bound? and how long had they been on the road? And having exhausted these orthodox remarks, we fell a-talking in dead earnest without the least restraint. I listened with interest to stories of weeks and weeks spent beneath the sun and stars while crossing widths of saltbush country, mulga and myall scrubs, of encounters with blacks in Queensland, and was favoured with a graphic description of a big strike among the shearers when the narrator had been boss-of-the-board out beyond Bourke. He spoke as though well educated, and a gentleman—as drovers often | do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.”<|quote|>The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him:</|quote|>“Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any particular notice of me. I flirted and frolicked with my other young men friends, but he did not care. I did not find him an ardent or a jealous lover. He was so irritatingly cool and matter-of-fact that I wished for the three months to pass so that I might be done with him, as I had come to the conclusion that he was barren of emotion or passion of any kind. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Sweet Seventeen Monday arrived—last day of November and seventeenth anniversary of my birth—and I celebrated it in a manner which I capitally enjoyed. It was the time of the annual muster at Cummabella—a cattle-station seventeen miles eastward from Caddagat—and all our men were there assisting. Word had been sent that a considerable number of beasts among those yarded bore the impress of the Bossier brand on their hides; so on Sunday afternoon uncle Jay-Jay had also proceeded thither to be in readiness for the final drafting early on Monday morning. This left us manless, as Frank Hawden, being incapacitated with a dislocated wrist, was spending a few weeks in Gool-Gool until he should be fit for work again. Uncle had not been gone an hour when a drover appeared to report that twenty thousand sheep would pass through on the morrow. Grass was precious. It would not do to let the sheep spread and dawdle at their drovers’ pleasure. There was not a man on the place; grannie was in a great stew; so I volunteered my services. At first she would not hear of such a thing, but eventually consented. With many injunctions to conduct myself with proper stiffness, I started early on Monday morning. I was clad in a cool blouse, a | My Brilliant Career |
“Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” | Uncle Julius | heard uncle Jay-Jay address him:<|quote|>“Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.”</|quote|>I wondered what Harold thought | Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him:<|quote|>“Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.”</|quote|>I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had | dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him:<|quote|>“Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.”</|quote|>I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it | “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him:<|quote|>“Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.”</|quote|>I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as | men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him:<|quote|>“Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.”</|quote|>I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any particular notice of me. I flirted and frolicked with my other young men friends, but he did not care. I did not find him an ardent or a jealous lover. He was so irritatingly cool and matter-of-fact that I wished for the three months to pass so that I might be done with him, as I had come to the conclusion that he was barren of emotion or passion of any | tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him:<|quote|>“Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.”</|quote|>I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any particular notice of me. I flirted and frolicked with my other young men friends, but he did not care. I did not find him an ardent or a jealous lover. He was so irritatingly cool and matter-of-fact that I wished for the three months to pass so that I might be done with him, as I had come to the conclusion that he was barren of emotion or passion of any kind. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Sweet Seventeen Monday arrived—last day of November and seventeenth anniversary of my birth—and I celebrated it in a manner which I capitally enjoyed. It was the time of the annual muster at Cummabella—a cattle-station seventeen miles eastward from Caddagat—and all our men were there assisting. Word had been sent that a considerable number of beasts among those yarded bore the impress of the Bossier brand on their hides; so on Sunday afternoon uncle Jay-Jay had also proceeded thither to be in readiness for the final drafting early on Monday morning. This left us manless, as Frank Hawden, being incapacitated with a dislocated wrist, was spending a few weeks in Gool-Gool until he should be fit for work again. Uncle had not been gone an hour when a drover appeared to report that twenty thousand sheep would pass through on the morrow. Grass was precious. It would not do to let the sheep spread and dawdle at their drovers’ pleasure. There was not a man on the place; grannie was in a great stew; so I volunteered my services. At first she would not hear of such a thing, but eventually consented. With many injunctions to conduct myself | we have any sort of an arrangement between us. Give me the ring and I’ll wear it sometimes.” He handed it to me again, and I tried it on. It was a little large. Harold took it, and tried to put it on one of his fingers. It would fit on none but the very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him:<|quote|>“Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.”</|quote|>I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any particular notice of me. I flirted and frolicked with my other young men friends, but he did not care. I did not find him an ardent or a jealous lover. He was so irritatingly cool and matter-of-fact that I wished for the three months to pass so that I might be done with him, as I had come to the conclusion that he was barren of emotion or passion of any kind. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Sweet Seventeen Monday arrived—last day of November and seventeenth anniversary of my birth—and I celebrated it in a manner which I capitally enjoyed. It was the time of the annual muster at Cummabella—a cattle-station seventeen miles eastward from Caddagat—and all our men were there assisting. Word had been sent that a considerable number of beasts among those yarded bore the impress of the Bossier brand on their hides; so on Sunday afternoon uncle Jay-Jay had also proceeded thither to be in readiness for the final drafting early on Monday morning. This left us manless, as Frank Hawden, being incapacitated with a dislocated wrist, was spending a few weeks in Gool-Gool until he should be fit for work again. Uncle had not been gone an hour when a drover appeared to report that twenty thousand sheep would pass through on the morrow. Grass was precious. It would not do to let the sheep spread and dawdle at their drovers’ pleasure. There was not a man on the place; grannie was in a great stew; so I volunteered my services. At first she would not hear of such a thing, but eventually consented. With many injunctions to conduct myself with proper stiffness, I started early on Monday morning. I was clad in a cool blouse, a holland riding-skirt, and a big straw hat; was seated on a big bay horse, was accompanied by a wonderful sheep-dog, and carried a long heavy stock-whip. I sang and cracked my stock-whip as I cantered along, quite forgetting to be reserved and proper. Presently I came upon the sheep just setting out for their day’s tramp, with a black boy ahead of them, of whom I inquired which was the boss. He pointed towards a man at the rear wearing a donkey-supper hat. I made my way through the sheep in his direction, and asked if he were in charge of them. On being answered in the affirmative, I informed him that I was Mr Bossier’s niece, and, as the men were otherwise engaged, I would see the sheep through. “That’s all right, miss. I will look out that you don’t have much trouble,” he replied, politely raising his hat, while a look of amusement played on his face. He rode away, and shouted to his men to keep the flock strictly within bounds and make good travelling. “Right you are, boss,” they answered; and returning to my side he told me his name was George Ledwood, and made some remarks about the great drought and so on, while we rode in the best places to keep out of the dust and in the shade. I asked questions such as whence came the sheep? whither were they bound? and how long had they been on the road? And having exhausted these orthodox remarks, we fell a-talking in dead earnest without the least restraint. I listened with interest to stories of weeks and weeks spent beneath the sun and stars while crossing widths of saltbush country, mulga and myall scrubs, of encounters with blacks in Queensland, and was favoured with a graphic description of a big strike among the shearers when the narrator had been boss-of-the-board out beyond Bourke. He spoke as though well educated, and a gentleman—as drovers often are. Why, then, was he on the road? I put him down as a scapegrace, for he had all the winning pleasant manner of a ne’er-do-well. At noon—a nice, blazing, dusty noon—we halted within a mile of Caddagat for lunch. I could have easily ridden home for mine, but preferred to have it with | had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him:<|quote|>“Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.”</|quote|>I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a “naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any particular notice of me. I flirted and frolicked with my other young men friends, but he did not care. I did not find him an ardent or a jealous lover. He was so irritatingly cool and matter-of-fact that I wished for the three months to pass so that I might be done with him, as I had come to the conclusion that he was barren of emotion or passion of any kind. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Sweet Seventeen Monday arrived—last day of November and seventeenth anniversary of my birth—and I celebrated it in a manner which I capitally enjoyed. It was the time of the annual muster at Cummabella—a cattle-station seventeen miles eastward from Caddagat—and all our men were there assisting. Word had been sent that a considerable number of beasts among those yarded bore the impress of the Bossier brand on their hides; so on Sunday afternoon uncle Jay-Jay had also proceeded thither to be in readiness for the final drafting early on Monday morning. This left us manless, as Frank Hawden, being incapacitated with a dislocated wrist, was spending a few weeks in Gool-Gool until he should be fit for work again. Uncle had not been gone an hour when a drover appeared to report that twenty thousand sheep would pass through on the morrow. Grass was precious. It would not do to let the sheep spread and dawdle at their drovers’ pleasure. There was not a man on the place; grannie was in a great stew; so I volunteered my services. At first she would not hear of such a thing, but eventually consented. With many injunctions to conduct myself with proper stiffness, I started early on Monday morning. I was clad in a cool blouse, a holland riding-skirt, and a big straw hat; was seated on a big bay horse, was accompanied by a wonderful sheep-dog, and carried a long heavy stock-whip. I sang and cracked my stock-whip as I cantered | My Brilliant Career |
I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a | No speaker | old St Peter up above.”<|quote|>I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a</|quote|>“naughty girl” . The situation | had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.”<|quote|>I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a</|quote|>“naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine | you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.”<|quote|>I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a</|quote|>“naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so | her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.”<|quote|>I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a</|quote|>“naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and | society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.”<|quote|>I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a</|quote|>“naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any particular notice of me. I flirted and frolicked with my other young men friends, but he did not care. I did not find him an ardent or a jealous lover. He was so irritatingly cool and matter-of-fact that I wished for the three months to pass so that I might be done with him, as I had come to the conclusion that he was barren of emotion or passion of any kind. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Sweet Seventeen Monday arrived—last day of November and seventeenth anniversary of my birth—and I celebrated it in a | glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.”<|quote|>I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a</|quote|>“naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any particular notice of me. I flirted and frolicked with my other young men friends, but he did not care. I did not find him an ardent or a jealous lover. He was so irritatingly cool and matter-of-fact that I wished for the three months to pass so that I might be done with him, as I had come to the conclusion that he was barren of emotion or passion of any kind. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Sweet Seventeen Monday arrived—last day of November and seventeenth anniversary of my birth—and I celebrated it in a manner which I capitally enjoyed. It was the time of the annual muster at Cummabella—a cattle-station seventeen miles eastward from Caddagat—and all our men were there assisting. Word had been sent that a considerable number of beasts among those yarded bore the impress of the Bossier brand on their hides; so on Sunday afternoon uncle Jay-Jay had also proceeded thither to be in readiness for the final drafting early on Monday morning. This left us manless, as Frank Hawden, being incapacitated with a dislocated wrist, was spending a few weeks in Gool-Gool until he should be fit for work again. Uncle had not been gone an hour when a drover appeared to report that twenty thousand sheep would pass through on the morrow. Grass was precious. It would not do to let the sheep spread and dawdle at their drovers’ pleasure. There was not a man on the place; grannie was in a great stew; so I volunteered my services. At first she would not hear of such a thing, but eventually consented. With many injunctions to conduct myself with proper stiffness, I started early on Monday morning. I was clad in a cool blouse, a holland riding-skirt, and a | very top of his little finger. We laughed heartily at the disparity in the size of our hands. “I’ll agree to your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.”<|quote|>I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a</|quote|>“naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any particular notice of me. I flirted and frolicked with my other young men friends, but he did not care. I did not find him an ardent or a jealous lover. He was so irritatingly cool and matter-of-fact that I wished for the three months to pass so that I might be done with him, as I had come to the conclusion that he was barren of emotion or passion of any kind. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Sweet Seventeen Monday arrived—last day of November and seventeenth anniversary of my birth—and I celebrated it in a manner which I capitally enjoyed. It was the time of the annual muster at Cummabella—a cattle-station seventeen miles eastward from Caddagat—and all our men were there assisting. Word had been sent that a considerable number of beasts among those yarded bore the impress of the Bossier brand on their hides; so on Sunday afternoon uncle Jay-Jay had also proceeded thither to be in readiness for the final drafting early on Monday morning. This left us manless, as Frank Hawden, being incapacitated with a dislocated wrist, was spending a few weeks in Gool-Gool until he should be fit for work again. Uncle had not been gone an hour when a drover appeared to report that twenty thousand sheep would pass through on the morrow. Grass was precious. It would not do to let the sheep spread and dawdle at their drovers’ pleasure. There was not a man on the place; grannie was in a great stew; so I volunteered my services. At first she would not hear of such a thing, but eventually consented. With many injunctions to conduct myself with proper stiffness, I started early on Monday morning. I was clad in a cool blouse, a holland riding-skirt, and a big straw hat; was seated on a big bay horse, was accompanied by a wonderful sheep-dog, and carried a long heavy stock-whip. I sang and cracked my stock-whip as I cantered along, quite forgetting to be reserved and proper. Presently I came upon the sheep just setting out for their day’s tramp, with a black boy ahead of them, of whom I inquired which was the boss. He pointed towards a man at the rear wearing a donkey-supper hat. I made my way through the sheep in his direction, and asked if he were in charge of them. On being answered in the affirmative, I informed him that I was Mr Bossier’s niece, and, as the men were otherwise engaged, I would see the sheep through. “That’s all right, miss. I will look out that you don’t have much trouble,” he replied, politely raising his hat, while a look of amusement played on his face. He rode away, and shouted to his men to keep the flock strictly within bounds and make good travelling. “Right you are, boss,” they answered; and returning to my side he told me his name was George Ledwood, and made some remarks about the great drought and so on, while we rode in the best places to keep out of the dust and in the shade. I asked questions such as whence came the sheep? whither were they bound? and how long had they been on the road? And having exhausted these orthodox remarks, we fell a-talking in dead earnest without the least restraint. I listened with interest to stories of weeks and weeks spent beneath the sun and stars while crossing widths of saltbush country, mulga and myall scrubs, of encounters with blacks in Queensland, and was favoured with a graphic description of a big strike among the shearers when the narrator had been boss-of-the-board out beyond Bourke. He spoke as though well educated, and a gentleman—as drovers often are. Why, then, was he on the road? I put him down as a scapegrace, for he had all the winning pleasant manner of a ne’er-do-well. At noon—a nice, blazing, dusty noon—we halted within a mile of Caddagat for lunch. I could have easily ridden home for mine, but preferred to have it with the drovers for fun. The men boiled the billy and made the tea, which we drank out of tin pots, with | the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.”<|quote|>I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a</|quote|>“naughty girl” . The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any particular notice of me. I flirted and frolicked with my other young men friends, but he did not care. I did not find him an ardent or a jealous lover. He was so irritatingly cool and matter-of-fact that I wished for the three months to pass so that I might be done with him, as I had come to the conclusion that he was barren of emotion or passion of any kind. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Sweet Seventeen Monday arrived—last day of November and seventeenth anniversary of my birth—and I celebrated it in a manner which I capitally enjoyed. It was the time of the annual muster at Cummabella—a cattle-station seventeen miles eastward from Caddagat—and all our men were there assisting. Word had been sent that a considerable number of beasts among those yarded bore the impress of the Bossier brand on their hides; so on Sunday afternoon uncle Jay-Jay had also proceeded thither to be in readiness for the final drafting early on Monday morning. This left us manless, as Frank Hawden, being incapacitated with a dislocated wrist, was spending a few weeks in Gool-Gool until he should be fit for work again. Uncle had not been gone an hour when a drover appeared to report that twenty thousand sheep would pass through on the morrow. Grass was precious. It would not do to let the sheep spread and dawdle at their drovers’ pleasure. There was not a man on the place; grannie was in a great stew; so I volunteered my services. At first she would not hear of such a thing, but eventually consented. With many injunctions to conduct myself with proper stiffness, I started early on Monday morning. I was clad in a cool blouse, a holland riding-skirt, and a big straw hat; was seated on a big bay horse, was accompanied by a wonderful sheep-dog, and carried a long heavy stock-whip. I sang and cracked my stock-whip as I cantered along, quite forgetting to be reserved and proper. Presently I came upon the sheep just setting out for their day’s tramp, with a black boy ahead of them, of whom I inquired which was the boss. He pointed towards a man at the rear wearing a donkey-supper hat. I made my way through the sheep in his direction, and asked if he were in charge of them. On being answered in the affirmative, I informed him that I was Mr Bossier’s niece, and, as the men were otherwise engaged, I would see the sheep through. “That’s all right, miss. I will look out that you don’t have much trouble,” he replied, politely raising his hat, while a look of amusement played on his face. He rode away, and shouted to his men to keep the | My Brilliant Career |
“naughty girl” | No speaker | shut up for being a<|quote|>“naughty girl”</|quote|>. The situation amused me | as his future wife being shut up for being a<|quote|>“naughty girl”</|quote|>. The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he | ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a<|quote|>“naughty girl”</|quote|>. The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed | that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a<|quote|>“naughty girl”</|quote|>. The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, | me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a<|quote|>“naughty girl”</|quote|>. The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any particular notice of me. I flirted and frolicked with my other young men friends, but he did not care. I did not find him an ardent or a jealous lover. He was so irritatingly cool and matter-of-fact that I wished for the three months to pass so that I might be done with him, as I had come to the conclusion that he was barren of emotion or passion of any kind. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Sweet Seventeen Monday arrived—last day of November and seventeenth anniversary of my birth—and I celebrated it in a manner which | the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a<|quote|>“naughty girl”</|quote|>. The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any particular notice of me. I flirted and frolicked with my other young men friends, but he did not care. I did not find him an ardent or a jealous lover. He was so irritatingly cool and matter-of-fact that I wished for the three months to pass so that I might be done with him, as I had come to the conclusion that he was barren of emotion or passion of any kind. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Sweet Seventeen Monday arrived—last day of November and seventeenth anniversary of my birth—and I celebrated it in a manner which I capitally enjoyed. It was the time of the annual muster at Cummabella—a cattle-station seventeen miles eastward from Caddagat—and all our men were there assisting. Word had been sent that a considerable number of beasts among those yarded bore the impress of the Bossier brand on their hides; so on Sunday afternoon uncle Jay-Jay had also proceeded thither to be in readiness for the final drafting early on Monday morning. This left us manless, as Frank Hawden, being incapacitated with a dislocated wrist, was spending a few weeks in Gool-Gool until he should be fit for work again. Uncle had not been gone an hour when a drover appeared to report that twenty thousand sheep would pass through on the morrow. Grass was precious. It would not do to let the sheep spread and dawdle at their drovers’ pleasure. There was not a man on the place; grannie was in a great stew; so I volunteered my services. At first she would not hear of such a thing, but eventually consented. With many injunctions to conduct myself with proper stiffness, I started early on Monday morning. I was clad in a cool blouse, a holland riding-skirt, and a big straw | your bargain,” he said. “But you’ll be really engaged to me all the same.` “Yes; under those conditions. Then it will not matter if we have a tiff. We can part, and no one will be the wiser.” On my suggesting that it was now time to go to the house, he swung himself down by a branch and turned to assist me. Descending from that tree was a feat which presented no difficulties to me when no one was by, but now it seemed an awkward performance. “Just lead your horse underneath, so that I can get on to his back, thence to the ground quite easily,” I said. “No fear! Warrigal wouldn’t stand that kind of dodge. Won’t I do? I don’t think your weight will quite squash me,” he returned, placing himself in leap-frog position, and I stepped on to his back and slid from there to the ground quite easily. That afternoon, when leaving the house, I had been followed by one of the dogs, which, when I went up the willow-tree, amused himself chasing water lizards along the bank of the creek. He treed one, and kept up a furious barking at the base of its refuge. The yelping had disturbed grannie where she was reading on the veranda, and coming down the road under a big umbrella to see what the noise was about, as luck would have it she was in the nick of time to catch me standing on Harold Beecham’s back. Grannie frequently showed marked displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a<|quote|>“naughty girl”</|quote|>. The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any particular notice of me. I flirted and frolicked with my other young men friends, but he did not care. I did not find him an ardent or a jealous lover. He was so irritatingly cool and matter-of-fact that I wished for the three months to pass so that I might be done with him, as I had come to the conclusion that he was barren of emotion or passion of any kind. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Sweet Seventeen Monday arrived—last day of November and seventeenth anniversary of my birth—and I celebrated it in a manner which I capitally enjoyed. It was the time of the annual muster at Cummabella—a cattle-station seventeen miles eastward from Caddagat—and all our men were there assisting. Word had been sent that a considerable number of beasts among those yarded bore the impress of the Bossier brand on their hides; so on Sunday afternoon uncle Jay-Jay had also proceeded thither to be in readiness for the final drafting early on Monday morning. This left us manless, as Frank Hawden, being incapacitated with a dislocated wrist, was spending a few weeks in Gool-Gool until he should be fit for work again. Uncle had not been gone an hour when a drover appeared to report that twenty thousand sheep would pass through on the morrow. Grass was precious. It would not do to let the sheep spread and dawdle at their drovers’ pleasure. There was not a man on the place; grannie was in a great stew; so I volunteered my services. At first she would not hear of such a thing, but eventually consented. With many injunctions to conduct myself with proper stiffness, I started early on Monday morning. I was clad in a cool blouse, a holland riding-skirt, and a big straw hat; was seated on a big bay horse, was accompanied by a wonderful sheep-dog, and carried a long heavy stock-whip. I sang and cracked my stock-whip as I cantered along, quite forgetting to be reserved and proper. Presently I came upon the sheep just setting out for their day’s tramp, with a black boy ahead of them, of whom I inquired which was the boss. He pointed towards a man at the rear wearing a donkey-supper hat. I made my way through the sheep in his direction, and asked if he were in charge of them. On being answered in the affirmative, I informed him that I was Mr Bossier’s niece, and, as the men were otherwise engaged, I would see the sheep through. “That’s all right, miss. I will look out that you don’t have much trouble,” he replied, politely raising his hat, while a look of amusement played on his face. He rode away, and shouted to his men to keep the flock strictly within bounds and make good travelling. “Right you are, boss,” they answered; and returning to my side he told me his name was George Ledwood, and made some remarks about the great drought and so on, while we rode in the best places to keep out of the dust and in the shade. I asked questions such as whence came the sheep? whither were they bound? and how long had they been on the road? And having exhausted these orthodox remarks, we fell a-talking in dead earnest without the least restraint. I listened with interest to stories of weeks and weeks spent beneath the sun and stars while crossing widths of saltbush country, mulga and myall scrubs, of encounters with blacks in Queensland, and was favoured with a graphic description of a big strike among the shearers when the narrator had been boss-of-the-board out beyond Bourke. He spoke as though well educated, and a gentleman—as drovers often are. Why, then, was he on the road? I put him down as a scapegrace, for he had all the winning pleasant manner of a ne’er-do-well. At noon—a nice, blazing, dusty noon—we halted within a mile of Caddagat for lunch. I could have easily ridden home for mine, but preferred to have it with the drovers for fun. The men boiled the billy and made the tea, which we drank out of tin pots, with tinned fish | displeasure regarding what she termed my larrikinism, but never before had I seen her so thoroughly angry. Shutting her umbrella, she thrust at me with it, saying, “shame! shame! You’ll come to some harm yet, you immodest, bold, bad hussy! I will write to your mother about you. Go home at once, miss, and confine yourself in your room for the remainder of the day, and don’t dare eat anything until tomorrow. Spend the time in fasting, and pray to God to make you better. I don’t know what makes you so forward with men. Your mother and aunt never gave me the slightest trouble in that way.” She pushed me from her in anger, and I turned and strode housewards without a word or glancing behind. I could hear grannie deprecating my conduct as I departed, and Harold quietly and decidedly differing from her. From the time of my infancy punishment of any description never had a beneficial effect upon me. But dear old grannie was acting according to her principles in putting me through a term of penance, so I shut myself in my room as directed, with goodwill towards her at my heart. I was burning with shame. Was I bold and immodest with men, as accused of being? It was the last indiscretion I would intentionally have been guilty of. In associating with men I never realize that the trifling difference of sex is sufficient to be a great wall between us. The fact of sex never for an instant enters my head, and I find it as easy to be chummy with men as with girls: men in return have always been very good, and have treated me in the same way. On returning from her walk grannie came to my room, brought me some preachy books to read, and held out to me the privilege of saying I was sorry, and being restored to my usual place in the society of the household. “Grannie, I cannot say I am sorry and promise to reform, for my conscience does not reproach me in the least. I had no evil—not even a violation of manners—in my intentions; but I am sorry that I vexed you,” I said. “Vexing me is not the sinful part of it. It is your unrepentant heart that fills me with fears for your future. I will leave you here to think by yourself. The only redeeming point about you is, you do not pretend to be sorry when you are not.” The dear old lady shook her head sorrowfully as she departed. The afternoon soon ran away, as I turned to my bookcase for entertainment and had that beautiful ring to admire. I heard them come in to tea, and I thought Harold had gone till I heard uncle Jay-Jay address him: “Joe Archer told me you ran into a clothes-line on race-night, and ever since then mother has kept up a daddy of a fuss about ours. We’ve got props about a hundred feet long, and if you weren’t in the know you’d think we had a telegraph wire to old St Peter up above.” I wondered what Harold thought of the woman he had selected as his future wife being shut up for being a<|quote|>“naughty girl”</|quote|>. The situation amused me exceedingly. About nine o’clock he knocked at my window and said: “Never mind, Syb. I tried to get you off, but it was no go. Old people often have troublesome straitlaced ideas. It will blow over by tomorrow.” I did not answer; so he passed on with firm regular footfall, and presently I heard his horse’s hoof-beats dying away in the darkness, and the closing and locking of doors around me as the household retired for the night. During the following fortnight I saw Harold a good many times at cricket-matches, hare-drives, and so forth, but he did not take any particular notice of me. I flirted and frolicked with my other young men friends, but he did not care. I did not find him an ardent or a jealous lover. He was so irritatingly cool and matter-of-fact that I wished for the three months to pass so that I might be done with him, as I had come to the conclusion that he was barren of emotion or passion of any kind. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Sweet Seventeen Monday arrived—last day of November and seventeenth anniversary of my birth—and I celebrated it in a manner which I capitally enjoyed. It was the time of the annual muster at Cummabella—a cattle-station seventeen miles eastward from Caddagat—and all our men were there assisting. Word had been sent that a considerable number of beasts among those yarded bore the impress of the Bossier brand on their hides; so on Sunday afternoon uncle Jay-Jay had also proceeded thither to be in readiness for the final drafting early on Monday morning. This left us manless, as Frank Hawden, being incapacitated with a dislocated wrist, was spending a few weeks in Gool-Gool until he should be fit for work again. Uncle had not been gone an hour when a drover appeared to report that twenty thousand sheep would pass through on the morrow. Grass was precious. It would not do to let the sheep spread and dawdle at their drovers’ pleasure. There was not a man on the place; grannie was in a great stew; so I volunteered my services. At first she would not hear of such a thing, but eventually consented. With many injunctions to conduct myself with proper stiffness, I started early on Monday morning. I was | My Brilliant Career |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.