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Updated: June 23, 2025
He felt the sweat on his forehead for, beside that date, the unexplained postscript of Li Ho's letter took on a ghastly significance. "Respected lady depart life on January 14th." She had not lived to write to England! It seemed to Benis Spence afterward that during that last day, while the train plunged steadily down to sea level, he passed every boundary ever set for the patience of man.
"Her photograph," interposed Desire shakily. "Eh?" "It was Mary's photograph. I found it on your desk." "It was John's, when I saw it." "Yes but you didn't see it soon enough." "Oh you young deceiver! But once you went to John's office and came away smiling." "Why not? I went to find Mary. And I didn't find her. When the real Mary came " "There is no real Mary." "Oh, Benis isn't she?"
"Lovely eyes, don't you think? Nice hair and such a darling nose. But her mouth isn't her mouth rather small?" "Regular 'prunes and prisms," agreed Benis. "It is very red, though." "Lipstick, probably." "But I thought you liked small, red mouths." "Hate 'em," said Benis, who had a shockingly bad memory. Desire went to bed thoughtful.
Desire threw down her pencil. "Oh, Benis," she said. "I don't like this. Don't let us play with words. Surely you are not getting tired you can't be." Her eyes, urgent and truth-compelling, forced an answer. "I don't quite know," he said. "But I am certainly off work at present. There may be all kinds of reasons. You will have to be patient, Desire."
Well, ... it need not be so high, perhaps. He would make it as easy as might be. The parrot was trying to attract him with his usual goblin croaks. Benis rubbed its bent, green head. "You'll miss her, too, old chap," he said, adding angrily, "dashed sentimentality!" The sound of his own voice steadied him. He must be careful. Above all, he must not sink into self-pity. He must go back to his work.
Desire did not ask, because she felt sure that, when she had seen, she would know without asking. At present there was little enough to go upon. The guest's name was Mary. Her hair was yellow. She had visited in Bainbridge before. She and Benis had been friends.
The gate of his pleasant home shut behind him like a prison gate. In short, Benis Spence paid for a moment's enlightenment with a bad day and a night that was no better. By the morning he had won through. One must carry on. And the advantage of a quiet manner is that no one notices when it grows more quiet. Desire was already in the library when he entered it. She looked very crisp and cool.
"But not quite." "Got what?" asked Desire, still wondering. "An introduction. Where is Benis? My dear, DON'T LOOK! She is the most determined person." Miss Campion herself was staring straight ahead. Desire, much amused, endeavored to do the same. "Surely it is a trifle!" she murmured. But Miss Campion was preoccupied. "Where can Benis be? John, do you know what is keeping Benis?
But the thing seemed scarcely credible. If it were a fact, then it might very easily be a tragedy also. Marriage in such haste and under such circumstances could scarcely be other than a mistake, and considering the quality of Benis Spence, a most serious one. John Rogers was very fond of his eccentric friend and the threatened disaster loomed almost personal.
The first thing she saw was Benis sitting on a fallen log and waiting. He had been waiting a long time. In the flashing second before he saw her, Desire had time to draw one long breath of wonder. After that, there was no time for anything. The professor's patience suddenly gave out. He had intended to begin with an explanation.
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