To Let by John Galsworthy (bookstand for reading .TXT) 📕

She Was Sitting On One Of     The     Two Rush-Seated Chairs, With Her Back To

The Door, When He Came In, And She Said At Once:

"Sit Down, Jon, I Want To Talk Seriously."

Jon Sat On The     Table By Her Side, And Without Looking At Him She Went

On:

"If You Don't Want To Lose Me, We Must Get Married."

Jon Gasped.

"Why? Is There Anything New?"

"No, But I Felt It At Robin Hill, And Among My People."

"But--" Stammered Jon, "At Robin Hill--It Was All Smooth--And They've

Said Nothing To Me."

"But They Mean To Stop Us. Your Mother's Face Was Enough. And My

Father's."

"Have You Seen Him Since?"

Fleur Nodded. What Mattered A Few Supplementary Lies?

 "But," Said Jon Eagerly, "I Can't See How They Can Feel Like That After

All These Years."

Fleur Looked Up At Him. 

"Perhaps You Don't Love Me Enough."

"Not Love You Enough! Why-I--"

"Then Make Sure Of     Me"

"Without Telling Them?"

"Not Till After."

Jon Was Silent. How Much Older He Looked Than On That Day, Barely Two

Months Ago, When She First Saw Him--Quite Two Years Older!

"It Would Hurt Mother Awfully," He Said.

Fleur Drew Her Hand Away.

"You've Got To Choose."

Jon Slid Off The     Table Onto His Knees.

"But Why Not Tell Them? They Can't Really Stop Us, Fleur!"

"They Can! I Tell You, They Can.

How?"

"We're Utterly Dependent--By Putting Money Pressure, And All Sorts Of

Other Pressure. I'm Not Patient, Jon."

"But It's Deceiving Them."

Fleur Got Up.

"You Can't Really Love Me, Or You Wouldn't Hesitate. 'He Either Fears

His Fate Too Much--!'"

Lifting His Hands To Her Waist, Jon Forced Her To Sit Down Again. She

Hurried On:

 "I've Planned It All Out. We've Only To Go To Scotland. When We're

Married They'll Soon Come Round. People Always Come Round To Facts.

Don't You See, Jon?"

"But To Hurt Them So Awfully!"

So He Would Rather Hurt Her Than Those People Of     His!

"All Right, Then; Let Me Go!"

Jon Got Up And Put His Back Against The     Door. "I Expect You're Right,"

He Said Slowly; "But I Want To Think It Over."

She Could See That He Was Seething With Feelings He Wanted To Express;

But She Did Not Mean To Help Him. She Hated Herself At This Moment, And

Almost Hated Him.

Why Had She To Do All The     Work To Secure Their Love? It Wasn't Fair.

And Then She Saw His Eyes, Adoring And Distressed.  

`

"Don't Look Like That! I Only Don't Want To Lose You, Jon."

"You Can't Lose Me So Long As You Want Me."

"Oh, Yes, I Can."

Jon Put His Hands On Her Shoulders.

"Fleur, Do You Know Anything You Haven't Told Me?"

It Was The     Point-Blank Question She Had Dreaded. She Looked Straight At

Him, And Answered: "No." She Had Burnt Her Boats; But What Did It

Matter, If She Got Him? He Would Forgive Her. And Throwing Her Arms

Round His Neck, She Kissed Him On The     Lips. She Was Winning! She Felt

It In The     Beating Of     His Heart Against Her, In The     Closing Of     His Eyes.

"I Want To Make Sure! I Want To Make Sure!" She Whispered. "Promise!"

Jon Did Not Answer. His Face Had The     Stillness Of     Extreme Trouble. At

Last He Said:

"It's Like Hitting Them. I Must Think A Little, Fleur. I Really Must."

Fleur Slipped Out Of     His Arms.

"Oh! Very Well!" And Suddenly She Burst Into Tears Of     Disappointment,

Shame, And Overstrain. Followed Five Minutes Of     Acute Misery. Jon's

Remorse And Tenderness Knew No Bounds; But He Did Not Promise. Despite

Her Will To Cry: "Very Well, Then, If You Don't Love Me

Enough--Good-Bye!" She Dared Not. 

From Birth Accustomed To Her Own Way,

This Check From One So Young, So Tender, So Devoted, Baffled And

Surprised Her. She Wanted To Push Him Away From Her, To Try What Anger

And Coldness Would Do, And Again She Dared Not. The     Knowledge That She

Was Scheming To Rush Him Blindfold Into The     Irrevocable Weakened

Everything--Weakened The     Sincerity Of     Pique, And The     Sincerity Of

Passion; Even Her Kisses Had Not The     Lure She Wished For Them. That

Stormy Little Meeting Ended Inconclusively.

"Will You Some Tea, Gnadiges Fraulein?"

Pushing Jon From Her, She Cried Out:

"No--No, Thank You! I'm Just Going."

And Before He Could Prevent Her She Was Gone.

She Went Stealthily, Mopping Her Flushed, Stained Cheeks, Frightened,

Angry, Very Miserable. She Had Stirred Jon Up So Fearfully, Yet Nothing

Definite Was Promised Or Arranged! But The     More Uncertain And Hazardous

The Future, The     More "The Will To Have" Worked Its Tentacles Into The

Flesh Of     Her Heart--Like Some Burrowing Tick!

No One Was At Green Street. Winifred Had Gone With Imogen To See A Play

Which Some Said Was Allegorical, And Others "Very Exciting, Don't You

Know?" It Was Because Of     What Others Said That Winifred And Imogen Had

Gone. Fleur Went On To Paddington. Through The     Carriage The     Air From

The Brick-Kilns Of     West Drayton And The     Late Hay-Fields Fanned Her

Still-Flushed Cheeks. Flowers Had Seemed To Be Had For The     Picking; Now

They Were All Thorned And Prickled. But The     Golden Flower Within The

Crown Of     Spikes Seemed To Her Tenacious Spirit All The     Fairer And More

Desirable. 

On Reaching Home Fleur Found An Atmosphere So Peculiar That It

Penetrated Even The     Perplexed Aura Of     Her Own Private Life. Her Mother

Was In Blue Stockingette And A Brown Study; Her Father In A White Felt

Hat And The     Vinery. Neither Of     Them Had A Word To Throw To A Dog. 'Is

It Because Of     Me?' Thought Fleur. 'Or Because Of     Profond?' To Her

Mother She Said:

"What's The     Matter With Father?"

Her Mother Answered With A Shrug Of     Her Shoulders.

To Her Father:

"What's The     Matter With Mother?"

 Her Father Answered:

"Matter? What Should Be The     Matter?" And Gave Her A Sharp Look.

"By The     Way," Murmured Fleur, "Monsieur Profond Is Going A 'Small'

Voyage On His Yacht, To The     South Seas."

Soames Examined A Branch On Which No Grapes Were Growing.

"This Vine's A Failure," He Said. "I've Had Young Mont Here. He Asked

Me Something About You."

"Oh! How Do You Like Him, Father?"

"He--He's A Product--Like All These Young People."

 "What Were You At His Age, Dear?"

Soames Smiled Grimly.

"We Went To Work, And Didn't Play About--Flying And Motoring, And

Making Love."

"Didn't You Ever Make Love?"

She Avoided Looking At Him While She Said That, But She Saw Him Well

Enough. His Pale Face Had Reddened, His Eyebrows, Where Darkness Was

Still Mingled With The     Grey, Had Come Close Together.

 "I Had No Time Or Inclination To Philander."

"Perhaps You Had A Grand Passion."

Soames Looked At Her Intently.

 "Yes--If You Want To Know--And Much Good It Did Me." He Moved Away,

Along By The     Hot-Water Pipes. Fleur Tiptoed Silently After Him.