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Updated: May 6, 2025
"She has gone off somewhere with that bounder Brandon," he said. "They got down to tea, and went off again in the motor afterwards, Mrs. Lockyard doesn't seem to know for certain where." "Phil!" she exclaimed in consternation, and added with her eyes on Caryl, "What is to be done? What can be done?" Caryl made quiet reply: "There was some talk of Wynhampton.
"I have a confession to make," he said, as they walked up to the house. "Oh, I know what it is," she returned carelessly. "Mrs. Lockyard did not expect me and has gone out." He nodded. "You are taking it awfully well. One would almost think you didn't mind." She laughed. "I never mind anything so long as I am not bored." "Nor do I," said Brandon. "We seem to have a good deal in common.
We shan't be quite alone, though, for Fricker is going to drive us. But he's a negligible quantity, eh? His only virtue is that he isn't afraid of driving in the dark." "You will take me to Mrs. Lockyard?" said Doris quickly. "Of course. She is at her flat, she and Mrs. Fricker. We shall be there soon after midnight, all being well. Confound this stream! It swirls like a mill-race."
Still I mustn't depreciate your prize since it was of your own choosing. Let me wish you instead every happiness." "He was not impassive that night," said Doris quickly, with a sharp inward sense of injustice. "No?" questioned Mrs. Lockyard. "No. At least Major Brandon did not find him so." Doris's blue eyes took fire at the recollection.
He did not look at her, or attempt to refute the statement. "I thought you were going to be out this afternoon," he said. "So I was. So I have been. I went to the club to get my letters." "Didn't you find any one there to talk to?" he asked. "No one," she answered somewhat hastily; then, moved by some impulse she could not have explained, "That is, no one that counts. I saw Mrs. Lockyard."
"I will tell you," he said, his voice very quiet and even, "exactly what Mrs. Lockyard was hinting at. Ten years ago I was engaged to a girl like you in many ways gay, impulsive, bewitching. I was young in those days, romantic, too. I worshipped her as a goddess. I was utterly blind to her failings. They simply didn't exist for me. She rewarded me by running away with Maurice Brandon.
Norman Lockyard, the wife of the Cabinet Minister. I seem to keep on bringing in ladies, but somehow when one talks about Alistair Ramsey one can't help it. Through Mrs. Lockyard, he got introduced to Sir Archibald Fellowes. It wasn't very difficult, you know; Ramsey gives little parties in his flat in Mount Street all sorts of people go.
She dropped her cigarette with determination and turned to the nearest door. It was true that she had run into the club for her correspondence, but having met Mrs. Lockyard she had been almost compelled to linger, albeit unwillingly. Now from the depths of her soul she regretted the impulse that had borne her thither. She vowed to herself that she would not enter the club again so long as Mrs.
"Where is Doris?" asked Phil Abingdon, looking round upon the guests assembled in his drawing-room at Rivermead. "We are all waiting for her." "I think we had better go in without her," said his wife, with her nervous smile. "She arranged to motor down with Mrs. Lockyard and her party this afternoon. Possibly they have persuaded her to dine with them."
Lockyard remained in town. Three weeks had elapsed since her marriage; three weeks of shopping in Paris with Caryl somewhere in the background, looking on but never advising. He had been very kind on the whole, she was fain to admit, but she was further from understanding him now than she had ever been.
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