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Updated: May 17, 2025
She had been driven there by an overmastering desire to escape from London for a few weeks, at least, to get right away from her accustomed life and from everyone who knew her. And at Stockleigh she had found Dan Storran.
Gillian experienced no anxiety with regard to Coppertop's safety while he was in Ned Honeycott's charge, but she missed the childish companionship, the more so as she found herself frequently alone these days. June Storran was naturally occupied about her house and dairy, while Magda, under Dan Storran's tutelage, appeared smitten with an extraordinary interest in farm management.
Her face fell as she spoke. But Storran dismissed the matter with a smile. "Oh, I can buy clean collars and shirts as I go along," he replied, entirely unruffled. "The dickens was to get on to the train at all! They assured me there wasn't a seat. However, I make a point of never believing official statements on principle."
The opening was too good to be lost. With the remembrance of June's wistful face before her eyes, Gillian plunged in recklessly. "Apropos of such offerings don't you think it would be wiser if you weren't quite so nice to Dan Storran?" "Am I nice to him?" "Too much so for my peace of mind or his! It worries me, Magda really. You'll play with fire once too often."
Then, before he could touch her, she drew away, step by step, and Dan Storran, standing there in tense, breathless silence, beheld what no one else had ever seen the Wielitzska dancing in the moonlight as she alone could dance. He knew nothing of art, nor of the supreme technique which went to make each supple movement a thing of sheer perfection, instinct with rhythm and significance.
Come and look at the clock. And, incidentally, give me that suit-case." She yielded up the case obediently and, having verified the time, proceeded towards the platform at a more reasonable gait. Storran, his long legs leisurely keeping pace with her shorter ones, smiled down at her. "And now, for the second time of asking, where are you off to?" "I'm going to France to fetch Michael."
"My dear Gillian, I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself. Do you imagine" with a small, fine smile "that I'm in danger of losing my heart to a son of the soil?" Gillian could have shaken her. "You? You don't suppose I'm afraid for you! It's Dan Storran who isn't able to look after himself." She stooped over Magda's chair and slipped an arm persuasively round her shoulders.
Thus Dan Storran, rather crossly, when, a day or two later, he met Gillian by appointment for lunch at their favourite little restaurant in Soho. It was the first time she had been able to fix up a meeting with him since Magda's return, as naturally his customary visits to Friars' Holm were out of the question now.
"Oh, I should know it right enough!" he said jerkily. His eyes kindled, and Magda, conscious of something suddenly disturbing and electric in the atmosphere, turned quickly and, leaving Storran to unharness the horse, made her way to where she espied Gillian sitting. The latter looked up from her sewing. "So you've got back? Did you have a good time?" "Yes. It was quite amusing.
"She was in a very odd kind of mood after Antoine had gone. I even asked her if he had brought any bad news, but I couldn't get any sensible answer out of her. And that night she proceeded to dance in the moonlight with Dan Storran for audience out of sheer devilment, of course!"
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