The Adventures of Miss Gregory. Gibbon Perceval

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СКАЧАТЬ off their condition with a brave front, and he was something of a connoisseur in impecuniousness. Miss Fraser showed none of the signs he was accustomed to recognize. The penniless, in his experience, might be aggressive or conciliatory, buoyantly cheerful or moist and resigned; but they always talked a little too much, whereas this girl did not talk at all. He hoisted himself half out of his chair, in a convention of politeness, to hand her the receipted bill across the top of his desk. She took it and went to dinner.

      Her place was at a table near the centre of the courtyard, close to where a water-pipe dribbled and gurgled through a heap of stones and answered to the title of "fountain." By this time she found herself tired; a great weariness oppressed her; and it was with hardly a thrill that she saw the man who followed her come in at the gate and bear straight down on her table. There were one or two other people about; she was aware of their presence without noticing them individually, but the fact that they were there saved her from the need of seeking refuge in her room and going without her dinner. She bent over her plate as he paused at the other side of the table.

      "Well," he was saying, "you had a run, did n't you? How are you feelin' after it?"

      He drew out a chair and seated himself opposite to her, leaning forward with both elbows on the table. It was a narrow table, and his attitude forced her to sit back. The hunted feeling returned to her, and all her shrinking fear at the sight of his lean, broken face, stamped with the unmistakable signs of drink, idleness, and bestiality. The smile upon it deepened its horror; it had a quality of relish, of cold glee.

      "If you don't go away ——" she began, and put her hands on the table in the action of rising from her chair.

      "Yes?" he inquired. "Yes? If I don't go away—what?"

      She sighed; it meant that she was to have no dinner. She gathered her belongings together, her purse, her gloves. He watched her with hot, narrow eyes.

      "You mean it?" he asked. "You're goin'? Just because I wanted to——"

      He stopped. From one of the tables under the veranda, where she had been sitting alone, an elderly lady had come toward them. She was standing at his side, stout, imperturbable, formidable. He stared up at her in amazement, and she looked down at him with the hard, cool face of one who is sure of herself.

      "Waiter!" she called, so suddenly that he jumped; and the waiter came running.

      "I will dine here," she announced, in a clear, deliberate voice. "Now! That is to say, if this young lady does not object."

      Miss Fraser glanced up timidly. "Not at all," she managed to answer, almost prayerfully. Her heart was beating tumultuously. After days of helplessness and suffering, here was the angel charged with deliverance. From the first moment, she had no doubt of it. The stranger was a gray-haired lady, short and thick-set. A flannel jacket, shaped like a man's, was loose on her broad shoulders; on her head, a felt hat added to the masculine character of her personality. She carried a large sun-umbrella as one carries a walking-stick; she was, altogether, a figure of some force. But Margaret Fraser looked past these items of accoutrement to the strong, confident face, the countenance of one in whom breeding has shaped character—the face, she told herself, of that most definite and finished thing, a "lady."

      The man licked his lips and cleared his throat.

      "I've taken this place," he said shortly.

      The strange lady continued to look at him for a space of moments. Her scrutiny had a tinge of curiosity, as if he were something new and unusual. Then——

      "Call the manager!" she ordered sharply.

      The waiter ran; he knew the tones of authority when he heard them. The other people sitting at tables looked on with gratitude for these diversions. Meanwhile she waited, still holding the man with an arrogant eye which had power to disconcert him mightily. He squirmed under it.

      "Ain't there places enough for you?" he began to whine. "Comin' here like this——"

      The manager arrived, still coatless, still with his effect of being insecure about the buttons.

      "I will dine here," the strange lady announced to him, with that fine calm of hers, and tapped her hand on the table.

      "1 was sittin' here," complained the man, "an' up she comes an' says she's goin' to have my place."

      The manager surveyed them, all three, with little twinkling eyes; he had the situation by the throat, as it were, before the man had finished speaking. He never made the mistake of backing the weaker party in any contest.

      "Dat's right," he said briskly. "Giuseppe,"—to the waiter—"lay de place for de lady. An' you come along."

      The last words were for the man; he gave in, and rose, growling.

      "This is a hell of a game," he said.

      "Yes," said the manager. "Dis way."

      The strange lady took the chair he had vacated, and smiled at Miss Fraser.

      "I 've not made a mistake, have I?" she inquired. "I was watching, and I thought you might be glad of an interruption."

      Miss Fraser found a difficulty in answering. She laid her knife and fork down, and sat back, fighting with herself to keep from crying. All through the week that was passed, she had shed no tear. From the gate of the courtyard there reached them the final stages of a debate between the manager and the parting guest.

      "You go out on your 'ead or your feet, vich you like," the former was saying.

      Miss Fraser managed at length to find words. "If I only knew how to thank you," she said "He—he has been haunting me for a week. I did n't know what to do."

      The elder woman stared at her critically. "No," she said; "I suppose you wouldn't know. But next time, my dear, try to remember that a man who occupies himself with a woman is sentimental, and therefore weak. Bark at him, my child; say things crudely in a loud, unsympathetic voice. They are always afraid that others will hear. Waiter!"

      "Madame?"

      "The wine list!" She turned to Miss Fraser again. "And now," she said, "tell me about yourself. My name's Gregory—Miss Gregory; that 'll do for a basis of understanding."

      She took the wine list from the obsequious hand of Giuseppe, and ran an experienced finger down a page. She selected a popular brand of champagne. "And bring me the cork," she ordered.

      She was bright and shrewd, panoplied with assurance, a woman of potency and energy. She dominated the place; it became a mere pale background to her personality, and the people in it mere shadows. But, with all her strength and directness, there was a note of humanity; little Miss Fraser found herself leaning forward, telling the whole pitiful tale of her troubles, from Mrs. Colby's disappointment in her as a companion to her lack of funds. Miss Gregory ate in silence while she heard her.

      "Colby!" she said then. "I don't know the name. And so she turned a child like you adrift on this Coast? I'm going to Rhodesia presently. I wonder if I shall meet her."

      "But what do you think I ought to do?" asked Miss Fraser, rather timidly, for Miss Gregory seemed to be occupied with thoughts.

      "Do!" repeated that lady. "Do! Oh—drink some of this champagne. Do you think that man will come back here to-night?"

      "Sometimes СКАЧАТЬ