Chapter 21

1.

　　Up on the roof of his apartment, far above the bustle and clamor ofthe busy city, Wally Mason, at eleven o'clock on the morning afterMrs Peagrim's bohemian party, was greeting the new day, as was hiscustom, by going through his ante-breakfast exercises. Mankind isdivided into two classes, those who do setting-up exercises beforebreakfast and those who know they ought to but don't. To the formerand more praiseworthy class Wally had belonged since boyhood. Lifemight be vain and the world a void, but still he touched his toes theprescribed number of times and twisted his muscular body aboutaccording to the ritual. He did so this morning a little morevigorously than usual, partly because he had sat up too late thenight before and thought too much and smoked too much, with theresult that he had risen heavy-eyed, at the present disgraceful hour,and partly because he hoped by wearying the flesh to still therestlessness of the spirit. Spring generally made Wally restless, butnever previously had it brought him this distracted feverishness. Sohe lay on his back and waved his legs in the air, and it was onlywhen he had risen and was about to go still further into the matterthat he perceived Jill standing beside him.

　　"Good Lord!!" said Wally.

　　"Don't stop," said Jill. "I'm enjoying it.""How long have you been here?""Oh, I only just arrived. I rang the bell, and the nice old lady whois cooking your lunch told me you were out here.""Not lunch. Breakfast.""Breakfast! At this hour?""Won't you join me?""I'll join you. But I had my breakfast long ago."Wally found his despondency magically dispelled. It was extraordinaryhow the mere sight of Jill could make the world a different place. Itwas true the sun had been shining before her arrival, but in aflabby, weak-minded way, not with the brilliance it had acquiredimmediately he heard her voice.

　　"If you don't mind waiting for about three minutes while I have ashower and dress . . .""Oh, is the entertainment over?" asked Jill, disappointed. "I alwaysarrive too late for everything.""One of these days you shall see me go through the whole programme,including shadow-boxing and the goose-step. Bring your friends! Butat the moment I think it would be more of a treat for you to watch meeat an egg. Go and look at the view. From over there you can seeHoboken.""I've seen it. I don't think much of it.""Well, then, on this side we have Brooklyn. There is no stint. Wanderto and fro and enjoy yourself. The rendezvous is in the sitting-roomin about four moments."Wally vaulted through the passage-window, and disappeared. Then hereturned and put his head out.

　　"I say!""Yes?""Just occurred to me. Your uncle won't be wanting this place for halfan hour or so, will he? I mean, there will be time for me to have abite of breakfast?""I don't suppose he will require your little home till some time inthe evening.""Fine!"Wally disappeared again, and a few moments later Jill heard the faintsplashing of water. She walked to the parapet and looked down. On thewindows of the nearer buildings the sun cast glittering beams, butfurther away a faint, translucent mist hid the city. There was Springhumidity in the air. In the street she had found it oppressive: buton the breezy summit of this steel-and-granite cliff the air was cooland exhilarating. Peace stole into Jill's heart as she watched theboats dropping slowly down the East River, which gleamed like dullsteel through the haze. She had come to Journey's End, and she washappy. Trouble and heart-ache seemed as distant as those hurryingblack ants down on the streets. She felt far away from the world onan enduring mountain of rest. She gave a little sigh of contentment,and turned to go in as Wally called.

　　In the sitting-room her feeling of security deepened. Here, the worldwas farther away than ever. Even the faint noises which had risen tothe roof were inaudible, and only the cosy tick-tock of thegrandfather's clock punctuated the stillness.

　　She looked at Wally with a quickening sense of affection. He had thedivine gift of silence at the right time. Yes, this was home. Thiswas where she belonged.

　　"It didn't take me in, you know," said Jill at length, resting herarms on the table and regarding him severely.

　　Wally looked up.

　　"What didn't take you in?""That bath of yours. Yes, I know you turned on the cold shower, butyou stood at a safe distance and watched it _show!_"Wally waved his fork.

　　"As Heaven is my witness. . . . Look at my hair! Still damp! And Ican show you the towel.""Well, then, I'll bet it was the hot water. Why weren't you at MrsPeagrim's party last night?""It would take too long to explain all my reasons, but one of themwas that I wasn't invited. How did it go off?" "Splendidly. Freddie'sengaged!" Wally lowered his coffee cup. "Engaged! You don't mean whatis sometimes slangily called bethrothed?""I do. He's engaged to Nelly Bryant. Nelly told me all about it whenshe got home last night. It seems that Freddie said to her 'What ho!'

　　and she said 'You bet!' and Freddie said 'Pip pip!' and the thing wassettled." Jill bubbled. "Freddie wants to go into vaudeville withher!""No! The Juggling Rookes? Or Rooke and Bryant, the cross-talk team, athoroughly refined act, swell dressers on and off?""I don't know. But it doesn't matter. Nelly is domestic. She's goingto have a little home in the country, where she can grow chickens andpigs.""'Father's in the pigstye, you can tell him by his hat,' eh?""Yes. They will be very happy. Freddie will be a father to herparrot."Wally's cheerfulness diminished a trifle. The contemplation ofFreddie's enviable lot brought with it the inevitable contrast withhis own. A little home in the country . . . Oh, well!

　　2.

　　There was a pause. Jill was looking a little grave.

　　"Wally!""Yes?"She turned her face away, for there was a gleam of mischief in hereyes which she did not wish him to observe.

　　"Derek was at the party!"Wally had been about to butter a piece of toast. The butter, jerkedfrom the knife by the convulsive start which he gave, popped up in asemi-circle and plumped onto the tablecloth. He recovered himselfquickly.

　　"Sorry!" he said. "You mustn't mind that. They want me to besecond-string for the 'Boosting the Butter' event at the next OlympicGames, and I'm practising all the time. . . . Underhill was there, eh?""Yes.""You met him?""Yes."Derek fiddled with his knife.

　　"Did he come over . . . I mean . . . had he come specially to seeyou?""Yes.""I see."There was another pause.

　　"He wants to marry you?""He said he wanted to marry me."Wally got up and went to the window. Jill could smile safely now, andshe did, but her voice was still grave.

　　"What ought I to do, Wally? I thought I would ask you, as you aresuch a friend."Wally spoke without turning.

　　"You ought to marry him, of course.""You think so?""You ought to marry him, of course," said Wally doggedly. "You lovehim, and the fact that he came all the way to America must mean thathe still loves you. Marry him!""But . . ." Jill hesitated. "You see, there's a difficulty.""What difficulty?""Well . . . it was something I said to him just before he went away.

　　I said something that made it a little difficult."Wally continued to inspect the roofs below.

　　"What did you say?""Well . . . it was something . . . something that I don't believe heliked . . . something that may interfere with his marrying me.""What did you say?""I told him I was going to marry _you!_"Wally spun round. At the same time he leaped in the air. The effectof the combination of movements was to cause him to stagger acrossthe room and, after two or three impromptu dance steps which wouldhave interested Mrs Peagrim, to clutch at the mantelpiece to savehimself from falling. Jill watched him with quiet approval.

　　"Why, that's wonderful, Wally! Is that another of your morningexercises? If Freddie does go into vaudeville, you ought to get himto let you join the troupe."Wally was blinking at her from the mantelpiece.

　　"Jill!""Yes?""What--what--what . . . !""Now, don't talk like Freddie, even if you are going into vaudevillewith him.""You said you were going to marry me?""I said I was going to marry you!""But--do you mean . . . ?"The mischief died out of Jill's eyes. She met his gaze frankly andseriously.

　　"The lumber's gone, Wally," she said. "But my heart isn't empty. It'squite, quite full, and it's going to be full for ever and ever andever."Wally left the mantelpiece, and came slowly towards her.

　　"Jill!" He choked. "Jill!"Suddenly he pounced on her and swung her off her feet. She gave alittle breathless cry.

　　"Wally! I thought you didn't approve of cavemen!""This," said Wally, "is just another new morning exercise I'vethought of!"Jill sat down, gasping.

　　"Are you going to do that often, Wally?""Every day for the rest of my life!""Goodness!""Oh, you'll get used to it. It'll grow on you.""You don't think I am making a mistake marrying you?""No, no! I've given the matter a lot of thought, and . . . in fact,no, no!""No," said Jill thoughtfully. "I think you'll make a good husband. Imean, suppose we ever want the piano moved or something . . . Wally!"she broke off suddenly.

　　"You have our ear.""Come out on the roof," said Jill. "I want to show you somethingfunny."Wally followed her out. They stood at the parapet together, lookingdown.

　　"There!" said Jill, pointing.

　　Wally looked puzzled.

　　"I see many things, but which is the funny one?""Why, all those people. Over there--and there--and there. Scutteringabout and thinking they know everything there is to know, and not oneof them has the least idea that I am the happiest girl on earth!""Or that I'm the happiest man! Their ignorance is--what is the word Iwant? Abysmal. They don't know what it's like to stand beside you andsee that little dimple in your chin. . . . They don't know you've_got_ a little dimple in your chin. . . . They don't know. . . . Theydon't know . . . Why, I don't suppose a single one of them even knowsthat I'm just going to kiss you!""Those girls in that window over there do," said Jill. "They arewatching us like hawks.""Let 'em!" said Wally briefly.