Barriers.
The house at Gled Bay was situated at some distance from the cliff, which was the spot most desired by its female tenants, but at the very gates of the golf links, which presented the be-all of existence to the two men. It was one of the aggressively new-looking edifices, which the house-hunters of to-day regard with dismay, protesting with unnecessary violence that nothing would induce them to make so prosaic a choice. That is stage number one. Stage number two consists in an inspection of cheerful rooms, wide windows, and sunny balconies, and a grudging admission that new houses have their points. Stage number three follows hard on the discovery of rats in the kitchen of the panelled house of dreams, and consists in a sceptical wonder if the villa could possibly “do.” Stage number four marks the signing of a lease, and the planting of innumerable creepers. In the case of the villa rented by Martin and the Squire in conjunction, the creepers had already mounted to the second story, so that it was possible to pick roses out of bedroom windows, and forget the glaring brick and imitation timber hidden beneath the clustering leaves. Cassandra and Grizel had rooms which opened on the same balcony, and there was a covered verandah which ran the length of the south side of the house, in the shade of which they partook of tea together, what time their lords were absent on the links.
The mental attitude of the two women towards the masculine absorption differed naturally. Cassandra was unfeignedly thankful to have her husband kept in good temper, and to be left alone to amuse herself. Grizel began each morning in a mood of exemplary unselfishness, rejoiced in the prospect of healthful exercise for her student, and speeded him on his course with the sunniest of smiles, but when tea-time brought no sign of return, her eyes showed sparks of light, and her lips tightened. This meant that the men had started on a third round, and would not appear until six, at which hour they would be graciously pleased to repose themselves on the verandah, drink cooling draughts, and smile benignly upon waiting wives, until it should be time to dress for dinner. On such occasions it was Grizel’s habit to leave the house shortly before six o’clock and start on an hour’s walk over the country in a directly opposite direction to that of the links. If a man elected to spend the whole day apart from his wife,—if he found his pleasure in so doing... far be it from her to say him nay, but on his return she would not be found sitting in an appointed place, meekly awaiting the light of his countenance. “That smacks too much of the harem for my taste!” quoth Mistress Grizel with a shrug.
These perverse excursions invariably ended in a pursuit by a tired Martin, when Grizel would be inwardly overwhelmed with remorse, and would make vows of forbearance for the future, which vows were fated to be broken with all speed. A state of mind for which no excuse is offered, but which is commended to the sympathy of the wives of golfing bridegrooms!
Sometimes Cassandra disappeared for long walks on her own account, and Grizel realised that she went forth to wrestle in solitude for a medicine of which her soul was in need. She was a restless Cassandra in these days, sometimes moody, often irritable, and anon almost obtrusively gay. For all their intimacy Grizel had a consciousness of being kept at a mental distance, or whenever their talks together took a deeper turn, Cassandra was ready with a laugh or jest to switch it back into light impersonality. So does a man with a maimed limb instinctively shield it from touch. Thus the first fortnight passed by, and brought the day when Dane Peignton was due to make his appearance.
He arrived at tea-time, looking tired and pale beside the tanned golfers, who had shortened their day in his honour, and were not above letting him realise their generosity. They were too pleasantly engaged describing the crack strokes of the day, to allow the new-comer much chance of speaking, but he had an air of abundant content as he drank his tea, vouchsafed appreciative murmurs of admiration, and took in the charming details of the scene. Grizel, as hostess ex officio, presided at the tea table. The two women had discussed the question of housekeeping during the joint month’s tenancy. Who should be the nominal head? Who should give orders? To whom should the servants apply? Since to possess two mistresses was anathema to everything in cap and apron, it was evident one must sacrifice herself for the common good. “It had better be me, then,” Grizel said, shrugging, “for I shan’t worry, and you will!” and Cassandra shrugged in her turn, and added, “Also if things go wrong, Bernard won’t growl at you.” And so the matter was arranged.
Cassandra’s swing chair was drawn close enough to the rails of the verandah to allow the rays of the sun to touch her hair as she tilted gently to and fro, and give an added lustre to the points of gold in the thick, wreath-like braid. She wore a white dress, which to masculine eyes appeared the acme of simplicity, and Peignton, watching her, believed that the style of coiffure and dress alike was the outward proof of inward simpleness of heart, and lack of feminine vanity. Wherein he was mistaken. After the first greeting he had never directly addressed himself to Cassandra, but his eyes wandered continually towards the white, swinging figure.
“We’ve fixed up your game all right, Peignton,” the Squire informed him. “Found a decent fellow at the club, who’s keen to make up a foursome. I think you can give him about two strokes. He’s to meet us to-morrow at ten o’clock. We ought to get in some good days before Saturday. Of course when the fair Teresa arrives you’ll want to knock off.”
Grizel made an expressive grimace.
“Seeing that she is—not his wife! Oh, matrimony, where are the charms our mothers have seen in thy face? There ought to be a second line to that.—La la la,—la la la, la la la La... since golf has taken our place! I shall have a word to say in Teresa’s ear.”