Henry glanced down at her; then at the shadowy arch of maples ahead. He wondered what was the matter with her. Girls were, of course, notoriously difficult. Never knew their own minds. He was exultantly happy. It had been a great day. Twelve a week now, and going up! Hump was a good old soul.... He recalled, with a recurrence of both the thrill and the conservatism that had come then, that he had had a great time with Corinne in the early afternoon. Mustn't go too far with that sort of thing, of course. But she was sure a peach. And she didn't seem the sort that would be for ever trying to pin you down. He took her hand now. It was great to feel her there, close beside him.' Corinne walked more rapidly. He didn't know that she was biting her lip. Nor did he perceive what she saw clearly, bitterly; that she had unwittingly served a purpose in his life, which he would never understand. And she saw, too, that the little job was, for the present, at least, over and done with. She stole another sidelong glance at him. He was twisting up the ends of his moustache. And humming. IV--THE WHITE STAR 1 |From the university clock, up in the north end of Sunbury village, twelve slow strokes boomed out. Henry Calverly, settled comfortably in the hammock on Mrs Arthur V. Henderson's front porch, behind the honeysuckle vine, listened dreamily. Beside him in the hammock was Corinne Doag. At the corner, two houses away, a sizzing, flaring, sputtering arc lamp gave out the only sound and the only light in the neighbourhood. Lower Chestnut Avenue was sound asleep. The storage battery in the modern automobile will automatically cut itself off from the generator when fully charged. Henry's emotional, nature was of similar construction. Corinne had overcharged him, and automatically he cut her off. The outer result of this action and reaction was a rather bewildering quarrel. Early in the present evening, shortly after Humphrey Weaver and Mrs Henderson left the porch for a little ramble to the lake--'Back in a few minutes,' Mildred had remarked--the quarrel had been made up. Neither could have told how. Each felt relieved to be comfortably back on a hammock footing. Henry, indeed, was more than relieved. He was quietly exultant. The thrill of conquest was upon him. It was as if she were an enemy whom he had defeated and captured. He was experiencing none of the sensations that he supposed were symptoms of what is called love. Yet what he was experiencing was pleasurable. He could even lie back here and think coolly about it, revel in it. Corinne's head stirred. 'That was midnight,' she murmured. 'What of it?' 'I suppose I ought to be thinking about going in.' 'I don't see that your chaperon's in such a rush.' 'I know. They've been hours. They might have walked around to the rooms.' Henry was a little shocked at the thought. 'Oh, no,' he remarked. 'They'd hardly have gone _there_--without us.'