STEP IN THE DARK. Ethel Lina White

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      "Didn't I tell you I had two children?" Her voice was still breathless. "Remind me some other time to tell you I've been married."

      "Married to an old man. Your husband went to school with your father."

      "But he was in the lower school, while Father was a prefect."

      "Then he must have been very backward."

      Georgia was conscious that she tried to feel resentful, yet could not force her indignation. She watched with some dismay as the Count began to pick the small pink begonias which helped to form the pattern of a strip of carpet-bedding.

      "You mustn't," she protested. "It's against the regulations."

      He only laughed as he put one bloom in his buttonhole and forced the remainder inside her hand.

      "A bouquet for the bride," he said, holding her fingers over the bunch. "Now I've caught you red-handed stealing the flowers. So I'm going to march you past every official in the park. They will arrest you and I shall be free again."

      When he actually carried out his threat, the solitary man in uniform saluted him and apparently did not recognise the civic property. But although the incident had no disagreeable sequel, Georgia wondered vaguely whether it revealed a warning sidelight on his character—lawlessness united to a contempt of consequences.

      "Lunch," said the Count, hailing a taxi. "We must celebrate."

      Faster, faster...The mad flight through the air was resumed at an accelerated pace. They patronised a big modern hotel, with tubular metal furniture and swing music. The Count ordered the most expensive food, most of which was wasted upon her. She tasted caviare for the first time, and vowed it should be the last; and she drank wine which was nauseous to her taste, but which seemed to impress the waiter.

      Afterwards they visited a jeweller's shop, when the Count bought an engagement-ring at an extravagant price and without deference to her taste. Fortunately, however, she was hypnotised with its splendour, so was content to be credited with the receptivity of a ventriloquist's dummy.

      The pace of that bewildering day overstrung her to a pitch of unreality when she lost her identity and became a character in one of her own thrillers. The excitement lasted through dinner and during the drive through the lavender electric-starred dusk to the Opera House.

      When the curtain fell upon the first act the Count began to question her about her children.

      "Are they fairies like you?"

      "No," she replied loyally. "They are big and handsome like their father."

      "But he was old."

      "That is why they are ultra-intelligent. I can't decide whether to make them journalists or estate-agents. They are mad on society weddings and house property. And you can't floor them over the ramifications of the royal family."

      "I must tell them all about the grand weddings I've attended. This is my plan. I will come back to England with you, to be approved by your mother. Then I want you to return to Sweden with me and pay a visit to my island."

      Georgia's face lit up with pleasure.

      "Of course, the children must come too," she said.

      "No." His voice was sharp. "You cannot take them away from their lessons."

      "Nonsense. It won't hurt them to run wild for a few weeks. They must see their future home. You must remember you are on approval...What's the matter?"

      She looked in surprise at his frowning brow and protruded underlip.

      "I am rather horrified that you set such a low value on education," he said stiffly. "But if you insist, they shall come. Only remember this. If anything goes wrong afterwards, it is your doing and you will have only yourself to blame."

      "What could go wrong?" she asked, chilled by his ominous words.

      "One never knows." He shrugged. "Perhaps my aunt will be annoyed."

      "Will she be there?"

      "Naturally—as your hostess."

      "But not Clair?"

      "Don't you like him?"

      "No. I loathed the way he put his arm around your neck."

      The Count looked startled.

      "Surely he never embraced me in public?" he asked.

      Suddenly Georgia realised that she was thinking of her nightmare dream. Overcome with confusion at her blunder, she did not remark that the Count had also made a slip.

      "Of course, I was exaggerating," she said quickly. "He only touched you when he was going out of the room. But I don't like men to paw each other."

      "Then Clair will not be there. You see, you have won again."

      His admission filled her with confidence. For the first time she welcomed the future without any fear.

      "I know I shall love your island," she said.

      "Ours," he corrected. "We both love quiet. Since you are afraid of the social obligations of your position, we will make it our permanent home. But the first moment you feel bored we will start on our travels. Vienna, Constantinople, New York, wherever you want to go. We will go there and back again. Back to our beautiful island."

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