i f6c06dd9cf3fe221 by Unknown (the false prince .TXT) 📕

dark when they returned home, and bitterly cold, with thin snowflakes lazily dropping here and there. Mrs. Mullen was waiting for them at her own front door.

"Where've you been?" she demanded.

"What's the matter? Is mother worse?" Kate asked anxiously.

"No," said Mrs. Mullen, pulling Kate into the doorway.

"You, Annie," she went on, to Kate's amazement, "go on round the back way and sit with your grandma. And if your gran da asks where Kate is tell him she's gone for... groceries, or meat ... or anything. Go on now ... don't stand there gaping... go on!"

Perplexed, Annie did as she had been told.

"Doctor Prince has been," said Mrs. Mullen.

"What!" Life whirled through Kate's veins; her head reeled with its force.

"Listen.... There's not much time. He came about fifteen minutes after you had gone. Now he told me to tel you that he's leaving Tyne Dock station at a quarter to seven ... he's for across the water ... but he'll be at the station just after six."

Tor France," Kate said dully, the new life ebbing away at the thought.

"Yes. Now get yourself off, it's twenty to six now. You'll be there by six if you hurry.... Here, give me your basket."

Kate turned without a word and ran down the street.

There was no tram in sight, so, lifting her skirts, she raced along the road, her heart crying, "Rodney! Rodney I' with each flying step....

Two hours wasted, and he going to France! ... She heard a tram coming, and stopped it. When she got to Tyne Dock she took another' to the station, arriving there just on six o'clock.

Rushing up the steep, narrow slope of the booking- hall, she found her way momentarily obstructed by a tall fur-clad woman, with a chauffeur in attendance. The latter, she noticed, had a club-foot, and for a second she wondered how one faced life under such a handicap. How one's thoughts flew off at a tangent, especially at times of greatest stress.

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Rodney was not in the booking-hall, but she assured herself he would come, it was just six o'clock. She would get a platform ticket. the respite would steady her.

She was turning away from the booking let when the chauffeur with the club-foot spoke to the clerk. His question startled her, and she stared at him. For he had asked, quietly, "Has Captain Prince ... you know. Doctor Prince passed through here recently?"

The irritated clerk snapped, "How should I know? Think I write down the names of everyone who buys a ticket?... Damn silly question to ask."

Kate looked at the woman in the fur coat, and was more perplexed still when she heard the chauffeur say to her, "He left half an hour ago, my lady. He caught the five-thirty to Newcastle."

He seemed to hover over the woman, and, when she said, "We'll go to Newcastle," he answered, "Very well, my lady."

As they walked away Kate noticed that, although he did not touch her, he seemed to lead her down the long slope.

A car started up in the darkness beyond, and Kate guessed they had gone. Who was she? Not Mrs. Prince . His mother then ? No, she was too young. And why had the chauffeur lied?

She stood, perplexed at the situation, staring out into the night, until a tall, lean, khaki-clad figure came striding towards her from out of the blackness.

Her heart leaped, and she seemed to grow taller within herself. Then he was there, close to her. Their hands met, and gripped. His dark eyes glowed into hers. They stood for a second, caught up in ecstatic silence, then, turning without speaking, they showed their tickets and passed through the barrier. By mutual consent they made their way to the far end of the platform, which was totally deserted. And they were in each other's arms, without having spoken a word.

Their lips clinging, their bodies endeavouring to merge, they swayed as they stood, holding this moment, willing it to go on for ever.

When at last he released her she leant against him, limp and trembling.

His lips continued to move over her race, kissing her eyes and her brow, murmuring words which gave her an inward glow. Presently she said, "Daring, is it France?"

"Yes," he whispered, still caressing her.

"Oh, why was I out?"

"Yes, why were you?" he asked.

"The bottom seemed to drop out of everything when I found you weren't there.... Didn't you receive my letter, dear?"

"I've had none for a week."

"What! But I've posted you two this week; the last one three days ago telling you about this move. I really expected to be here yesterday, but everything's been in such a devil of a mixup."

"It's the Christmas post," said Kate; 'they must have been held up.

Oh, darling, I've been so worried! "

"Have you, my love?... In a way, it makes my heart glad to know that.... Let me look at you. Come here," he said, drawing her into the weak gleam of a gas jet.

"How do you do it?" he cupped her face tenderly in his hands.

"You are more beautiful each time I see you.... Oh'--he drew her into his embrace again--'how am I going to let you go? Oh, Kate! ...

darling! darling! I love you ... Oh, God!"

They clung to each other desperately, hungrily.

Then, in a little while, she asked, tentatively, "Must you go tonight?"

"Yes," he answered bitterly.

"We are to leave Newcastle just after eight.... Christmas Eve, too! The men are in a devil of a way.... We should all have had leave, but they've tried to tell the men that the unexpected seven days they got last Christmas was really embarkation leave, and that we should have been in France months ago. There's been a frightful bungle somewhere.

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