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Updated: May 17, 2025
It was indeed something altogether apart from any sympathy for June which had prompted Magda to leave Storran before he uttered words that he might regret, but which no power on earth could ever recall.
"But even when he comes," added Gillian, "unless he is very careful unless he loves her in the biggest way a man can love, so that nothing else matters, he'll lose her. He'll have to convince her that she means just that to him." Storran was silent for a long time, and when at last he spoke it was with an obvious effort. "Listen," he said. "There's something you don't know.
But at the sound of his voice Gillian's eyes flew up from that virile-looking hand to the face of its owner, and a low cry of surprise broke from her lips. "Dan Storran!" Simultaneously the man gave utterance to her own name. Gillian stared at him stupidly. Could this really be Dan Storran Storran of Stockleigh? The alteration in him was immense. He looked ten years older.
As she went she could hear Dan's footstep in the passage below. It sounded tired quite unlike his usual swinging stride with its suggestion of impetuous force. But it was not work that had tired Dan Storran that afternoon.
Storran put out his hand to steady her as the train jolted to a standstill. "Yes, we're here at last," he said. "Now to find a vehicle of some description to take us out to Armanches." As he had suggested it would, Gillian's collapse had delayed them some time.
Being a man as well as a porter he melted at once under Magda's disarming smile, and replied with a sudden accession of amiability. "Be you going to Stockleigh?" he asked. The soft sing-song intonation common to all Devon voices fell very pleasantly on ears accustomed to the Cockney twang of London streets. "Yes, to Storran of Stockleigh," announced Coppertop importantly.
This would mean at least a delay of several days before they could possibly see Michael, and meanwhile it was a moot question as to how much longer Lady Arabella could restrain Magda from taking definite steps with regard to joining the sisterhood. Storran nodded. "Yes," he said quietly. "But all the same, you'll not start back till to-morrow " "Oh, but I must!" interrupted Gillian.
Storran will like it?" Magda started. "Why on earth shouldn't she?" "Well," Gillian spoke with a vague discomfort. "He's her husband!" "I don't see what that has to do with it," replied Magda. "We're staying here and, of course, the Storrans want to make it as nice as they can for us. Anyway, I'm going to take such goods as the gods provide."
It was almost a relief to Gillian when Dan Storran appeared, although the recollection of the strained atmosphere which had attended the previous meal did not hold out much promise of better things to come. His face was still clouded and he glowered at the tea-table under the elms with dissatisfied eyes. "What on earth's the meaning of this?" he demanded ungraciously of his wife.
Storran cleared out of the country at once, and June had nothing left to live for. The only thing I didn't know was the name of the woman who had smashed up both their lives. I saw Dan in Paris . . . He came to me at my studio. But he was a white man. He never gave away the name of the woman who had ruined him. I only knew she had spent that particular summer at Stockleigh.
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