A lady and her husband

by Amber Reeves Blanco White

At that moment the clock struck half-past six. A new idea occurred to James. "Look here," he said, "I'd brought home these papers from Carter's to look over—but I've thought of something that I want to do. I'd be very grateful if you'd go through them for me—if there's anything I really ought to see I'll tackle it after dinner."

It was one of Trent's good points that he did not object to work, he believed in efficiency and perseverance as James believed in energy and enterprise. He nodded. "Certainly, I'll go through them as soon as I've changed—" He went over to his father's desk.

James left the room without saying anything more. In the hall he met one of the servants, and with her he left a message that Mrs. Heyham might possibly be in to dinner. Then he went out and took the first taxi he met. If there was to be a reconciliation, he considered, it was foolish to put it off until the morrow. If he was going to see Mary again he might just as well see her gladly and at once. He was feeling glad and perfectly forgiving. His new excitement left no room in his mind for anger or bitterness. The idea of Parliament delighted him. Thirty years of business is enough for one lifetime, and Trent could manage well enough with an occasional prod from his father. James was not a very ambitious man. He did not imagine himself Prime Minister. But he liked to think of his maiden speech—the House would surely listen with attention to one who came not as a professional politician, but as the very voice, so to speak, of England's backbone—a solid successful self-made business man, and one, moreover, who was unassuming and not without a certain personal charm. He would be popular in the House, he felt it. It did not occur to him that his ideas of labour conditions might be a little old-fashioned.

It was not until the taxi drew up that he turned his mind seriously to his interview with Mary. He did not look forward to it with any anxiety. It would be all right, he told himself as the lift mounted, particularly as she didn't want to discuss things. She had been ill when he saw her before, but now she was well— The dear little thing, in a few minutes more it would be all right again!

Guinivere showed him into the sitting-room. Mary was lying on the sofa, and as the door opened she turned towards it. Her face, when first she caught sight of him, expressed nothing but surprise. She half rose—then he saw the look of surprise change to trouble, almost to fear. Poor little thing—poor little darling—she was afraid of him! He crossed the room and took her into his arms. "Ridiculous little mother," he said, "why did you look at me like that? I've not come to tell you anything more dreadful than that I love you!"

Mary clung to him. "Oh, James," she said, "haven't you?" and for a moment she was satisfied with his kiss. Then her doubts returned, she drew herself a little away. "But did you read my letter?" she asked. "The part at the end, about the business?"

James kissed her again. "Oh, yes, I read it," he told her, "and this tyrant of a mother of ours is going to have it all her own way. The girls shall have a nurse apiece and a lap-dog as well, if the money will run to it, and you'll dress in black serge and I'll wear a celluloid collar. Seriously, we can't sell the business if you object to it, and I feel that I've no right to coerce your conscience in the matter of wages. I won't pretend that I'm not disappointed at having to give up my scheme, but to make up for it and keep myself amused I'm going to become an orator and stand for Parliament. How will you like that?"

Mary smiled up at him. "I'm sure you'll be splendid," she said, "you speak so well—but, James—just tell me first—aren't you angry with me at all?"

He interrupted her. "I have been angry with you—I'm a bad-tempered creature, and I must admit that I was awfully angry. But now that's to be all over, isn't it? We've come back to one another, just as if I'd been away on business." His arms tightened round her. "Look up at me, Mary—I love you, my dear, more than I love anything in the world!"

When he had finished kissing her he told her to put on her hat. "I've come to take you back to dinner," he informed her, "and we've only just time. Trent and I have had dinner alone quite long enough. The young woman who let me in can pack your things and I'll call for them to-morrow. I'd like to see this place in daylight—do you know, I'm not sure this scheme of colour wouldn't be worth trying in some of our new shops. It's quite original—I'll tell young Price to come along and have a look at it. Are all the other rooms as weird as this?"