It Began in Vauxhall Gardens

saw clearly and I have been stupid . . . stupid all the time. Now I see. Now I understand. And it is the good men I despise the most. The lawyer who is so anxious to marry me . . . for my dowry! He is yet another. Thank you, Genevra. Thank you for explaining what I ought to have known."

"Here," said Genevra, "you'd better calm yourself, ducky."

"You see, dear," said Clotilde, "they only want the best for you. Don't blame them for that. Don't blame him."

"I should have been told. Don't you see ... it is the pretence, that hypocrisy that I ca

"I've been a fool," said Genevra. "I thought you knew this. You must have known about Lucie."

"I am a fool. I know nothing. I am blind . . . blind. . . . And I do not see until the truth is pushed under my nose by kind people like you." She put her arms about Genevra and Clotilde. "Oh, Genevra, Clotilde, you are my friends. You do not pretend to be good. I hate all men and women who pretend to be good, for they are the bad ones. I hate that man now. I never loved him, but I admired him. I respected him. What an idiot!"

Elise said sharply: "Do not, Mademoiselle. I beg ... be calm. You must not laugh so. It is bad."

Genevra put her arms round Melisande and hugged her. "Don't worry, Melly. We'll look after you. I'm sorry I said what I did. I thought you knew . . . honest."

"It is for the best perhaps," said Clotilde. "It was wrong, that marriage. I knew it."

"Melly," said Genevra, "you've got the light of battle in your eyes. What are you going to do?"

Melisande looked from one to the other. Clotilde knew. The battle between security and adventure had been won for adventure.

Melisande threw out her arms suddenly. "I am free!" she cried. "Now I will be no one but myself. I will not be sold with a dowry to make up the weight. I feel as though I have been laced too tightly and now I am free. Now I shall do what / wish . . . not what others wish for me."

"You look wild," said Genevra uneasily. "Are you sure you want to appear to-night?"

"I have something to do to-night, Genevra. I am in love ... in love with my new life."

The ivory velvet encasing the slim figure was a triumph, thought Fenella; and never had Melisande appeared to be so beautiful. What had happened to her to-night? Her eyes were like flashing emeralds.

She seemed so sure of herself. She had thrown aside that modesty which had been so appealing, and yet she was more attractive without it.

Poor Mr. Beddoes was looking bewildered, as though he scarcely recognized his bride-to-be.

Melisande was saying: "I must have a word with you, Mr. Beddoes; I have something to say to you."

"You have your answer for me?"

"Yes." She smiled at him. She had lost her pity. It was not mere dislike she felt for Mr. Beddoes. To her he represented Hypocrisy, her newly found hate. From now on she would be one of the bold and adventurous. She hated shams. She hated the man who said: *I love you' when he meant 'I love your dowry and the good business which would be put in my way if I married you.' She loved the bold adventurer who promised love and passion without lies.

"I can see what it is," he said. "Oh, Melisande, we shall be happy."

"If a substantial sum of money and influential clients could make us happy, we should be very happy indeed, should we not?" she flashed.

"Melisande?"

"You look surprised. Why? I know that is what this marriage means to you. What have I ... I myself to do with it? It might have been Genevra, Clotilde, Daisy, Kate . . . anybody Madam Cardingly put before you. But it was Melisande St. Martin whom you wished to marry, for her father has provided for her so adequately."

He stammered: "I do not understand. I am very fond of you, Melisande."

"I know you are in love. . . . How comforting it must be to be in love with a sum of money!"

"You bewilder me."

"I am glad someone else is bewildered. I myself have been bewildered for so long. If you had said to me, 'Let us marry. Your father promises me a sum of money if I will take you off his hands and salve his conscience concerning you' I should have respected you more. But you came to me and talked of love."

"But I do love you, Melisande."

She laughed. "How much would you have loved me if my father had been a poor man unable to make it worth your while to marry me?"

"Surely this is an u

"It is necessary to me. I am enjoying it. It eases my anger; it soothes my wounded pride to be able to talk to you in this way. You have had your hopes of a financially attractive marriage. Pray leave me my little satisfactions. Give me a chance to say that I despise you . .. not for wanting the money my father would provide, but pretending to want me."

"Are you telling me that your answer is no?"

"That must be clear. If it is not, take warning; you will have to be much sharper in your profession, if you are going to succeed without my dowry. But perhaps you will find other offers open to you. Certainly I am telling you that my answer is No."

Fermor, who had been watching, came over and laid his hand on her arm. "Good evening, Mademoiselle St. Martin," he said. "Good evening, Mr. Beddoes. Did I gather that you wished to speak to me, Mademoiselle ?"

She turned her blazing eyes upon him. "That is so."

"I am gratified. Mr. Beddoes will excuse us, I am sure."

They walked away, leaving the bewildered Mr. Beddoes staring after them.

"Such lovers' quarrels should not be conducted in public," he said.

"It was no lovers' quarrel."

"Melisande, what has happened to you to-night?"

"I have grown up. I am begi

"I am always losing patience with you. Haven't I wanted you fiercely from the moment I saw you, and haven't you been maddeningly coy?"

"I am myself. . . now. I am in love with truth."

"And with me too?"

"In love with truth is to admit my love for you. Always before I have been in love with Tightness and what I believed to be good. But now I am in love with truth, and I love you because you are without pretence of goodness."

"I hope you won't be shocked, my darling, when you discover my heart of gold."

"There is so little chance of finding it that I will risk the shock. I am bad too. Oh yes, I am. I have wanted to be with you. I have said: 'Caroline? What of Caroline? She should not have married him knowing that he did not love her.' What do I care for Caroline? I want to leave this house at once."

"We'll go to-night."

"Now?"

"This minute. Now I have made you admit the truth, we'll not wait another hour."

"Where shall we go?"

"There are places. To-morrow we'll find a house, and there we shall live."

"You mean I shall live there. You will only partly live there. You have your home."

"Will you believe me now if I say how much I wish it could have been different? I wish I could live there all the time."

"Yes," she said, "I do believe you. You will tell Caroline?"