Jimmy looked at Ann. They were alone. Mr. Pett had gone back tobed, Mrs. Crocker to her hotel. Mr. Crocker was removing hismake-up in his room. A silence had followed their departure.
"This is the end of a perfect day!" said Jimmy.
Ann took a step towards the door.
"Don't go!"Ann stopped.
"Mr. Crocker!" she said.
"Jimmy," he corrected.
"Mr. Crocker!" repeated Ann firmly.
"Or Algernon, if you prefer it.""May I ask--" Ann regarded him steadily. "May I ask.""Nearly always," said Jimmy, "when people begin with that, theyare going to say something unpleasant.""May I ask why you went to all this trouble to make a fool of me?
Why could you not have told me who you were from the start?""Have you forgotten all the harsh things you said to me from timeto time about Jimmy Crocker? I thought that, if you knew who Iwas, you would have nothing more to do with me.""You were quite right.""Surely, though, you won't let a thing that happened five yearsago make so much difference?""I shall never forgive you!""And yet, a little while ago, when Willie's bomb was about to gooff, you flung yourself into my arms!"Ann's face flamed.
"I lost my balance.""Why try to recover it?"Ann bit her lip.
"You did a cruel, heartless thing. What does it matter how longago it was? If you were capable of it then--""Be reasonable. Don't you admit the possibility of reformation?
Take your own case. Five years ago you were a minor poetess. Nowyou are an amateur kidnapper--a bright, lovable girl at whoseapproach people lock up their children and sit on the key. As forme, five years ago I was a heartless brute. Now I am a soberserious business-man, specially called in by your uncle to helpjack up his tottering firm. Why not bury the dead past?
Besides--I don't want to praise myself, I just want to call yourattention to it--think what I have done for you. You admittedyourself that it was my influence that had revolutionised yourcharacter. But for me, you would now be doing worse than writepoetry. You would be writing _vers libre_. I saved you from that.
And you spurn me!""I hate you!" said Ann.
Jimmy went to the writing-desk and took up a small book.
"Put that down!""I just wanted to read you 'Love's Funeral!' It illustrates mypoint. Think of yourself as you are now, and remember that it isI who am responsible for the improvement. Here we are. 'Love'sFuneral.' 'My heart is dead. . . .' "Ann snatched the book from his hands and flung it away. It soaredup, clearing the gallery rails, and fell with a thud on thegallery floor. She stood facing him with sparkling eyes. Then shemoved away.
"I beg your pardon," she said stiffly. "I lost my temper.""It's your hair," said Jimmy soothingly. "You're bound to bequick-tempered with hair of that glorious red shade. You mustmarry some nice, determined fellow, blue-eyed, dark-haired,clean-shaven, about five foot eleven, with a future in business.
He will keep you in order.""Mr. Crocker!""Gently, of course. Kindly-lovingly. The velvet thingummy ratherthan the iron what's-its-name. But nevertheless firmly."Ann was at the door.
"To a girl with your ardent nature some one with whom you canquarrel is an absolute necessity of life. You and I areaffinities. Ours will be an ideally happy marriage. You would bemiserable if you had to go through life with a human doormat with'Welcome' written on him. You want some one made of sternerstuff. You want, as it were, a sparring-partner, some one withwhom you can quarrel happily with the certain knowledge that hewill not curl up in a ball for you to kick, but will be therewith the return wallop. I may have my faults--" He pausedexpectantly. Ann remained silent. "No, no!" he went on. "But I amsuch a man. Brisk give-and-take is the foundation of the happymarriage. Do you remember that beautiful line of Tennyson's--'Wefell out, my wife and I'? It always conjures up for me a visionof wonderful domestic happiness. I seem to see us in our old age,you on one side of the radiator, I on the other, warming our oldlimbs and thinking up snappy stuff to hand to eachother--sweethearts still! If I were to go out of your life now,you would be miserable. You would have nobody to quarrel with.
You would be in the position of the female jaguar of the Indianjungle, who, as you doubtless know, expresses her affection forher mate by biting him shrewdly in the fleshy part of the leg, ifshe should snap sideways one day and find nothing there."Of all the things which Ann had been trying to say during thisdiscourse, only one succeeded in finding expression. To hermortification, it was the only weak one in the collection.
"Are you asking me to marry you?""I am.""I won't!""You think so now, because I am not appearing at my best. You seeme nervous, diffident, tongue-tied. All this will wear off,however, and you will be surprised and delighted as you begin tounderstand my true self. Beneath the surface--I speakconservatively--I am a corker!"The door banged behind Ann. Jimmy found himself alone. He walkedthoughtfully to Mr. Pett's armchair and sat down. There was afeeling of desolation upon him. He lit a cigarette and began tosmoke pensively. What a fool he had been to talk like that! Whatgirl of spirit could possibly stand it? If ever there had been atime for being soothing and serious and pleading, it had beenthese last few minutes. And he talked like that!
Ten minutes passed. Jimmy sprang from his chair. He thought hehad heard a footstep. He flung the door open. The passage wasempty. He returned miserably to his chair. Of course she had notcome back. Why should she?
A voice spoke.
"Jimmy!"He leaped up again, and looked wildly round. Then he looked up.
Ann was leaning over the gallery rail.
"Jimmy, I've been thinking it over. There's something I want toask you. Do you admit that you behaved abominably five yearsago?""Yes!" shouted Jimmy.
"And that you've been behaving just as badly ever since?""Yes!""And that you are really a pretty awful sort of person?""Yes!""Then it's all right. You deserve it!""Deserve it?""Deserve to marry a girl like me. I was worried about it, but nowI see that it's the only punishment bad enough for you!" Sheraised her arm.
"Here's the dead past, Jimmy! Go and bury it! Good-night!"A small book fell squashily at Jimmy's feet. He regarded it dullyfor a moment. Then, with a wild yell which penetrated even to Mr.
Pett's bedroom and woke that sufferer just as he was dropping offto sleep for the third time that night he bounded for the gallerystairs.
At the further end of the gallery a musical laugh sounded, and adoor closed. Ann had gone.
The End
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