And catastrophic. Not till now had he realised
to what catastrophe he then had plunged. He thought,
“The fact was Nona touched things in me that
helped me. Without her I just shut down—I
just go about—longing, longing, and all
shut up, day after day, year after year—all
shut up. And now there’s this—she’s
come back like this—”
He came upon the picture of himself alone with Nona—alone
with her watching her beautiful face—and
saying to her, “Look here, there were three
things you said, three expressions you used. Explain
them, Nona. Explain ‘There!’ with
your glove off. Explain ‘Flotsam.’
Explain ’Well, I had to come.’ Explain
them, Nona—for God’s sake.”
But it was October before he asked her to explain
them. The Tybars, as he learnt when next he met
her, a week after her visit to the office, were only
at Northrepps for a breathing space after their foreign
tour. Through the summer they were going the
usual social round, ending in Scotland. Back
in October for the shooting, and wintering there through
the hunting season.
So she told him; and he thought while she was speaking,
“All right. I’ll accept that.
That helps to stop me asking her. If an opportunity
occurs before she goes I’ll ask her. I
must. But if it doesn’t occur I’ll
accept that. I won’t make an opportunity.”
It did not occur, and he abode by his resolution.
He met her once or twice, always in other company.
And she was always then particularly gay, particularly
airy, particularly bantering. But answering her
banter he once caught an expression behind her airiness.
He thought, “It is a shield”; and he turned
away abruptly from her. He could not bear it.
This was on the occasion of a little dinner party
at Northrepps to which he had come with Mabel; Major
Hopscotch Millet and one or two others were among
the guests. Major Millet, who had been in particularly
hopscotch, Ri—te O! form throughout
the evening, was walking back, but Mabel invited him
to accompany them in the ancient village fly.
“Ri—te O!” said Major
Millet with enormous enthusiasm.
Nona came with them to the door on their departure.
Sabre was last down the steps. “Well, I
shan’t see you again till October,” she
said.
“No, till October.” He no more than
touched her hand and turned away. He had kept
his resolution.
She was close behind him. He heard her give the
tiniest little catch at her breath. She said,
“Shall I write to you, Marko?”
He turned towards her. She was smiling as though
it was a chaffing remark she had made. Her shield!
And he answered her from behind his own shield, “Oh,
well, I’m bad at letters, you know.”
But their eyes met with no shields before them; and
she was wounded, for he just caught her voice as he
went down the steps, “Oh, Marko, do write to
me!”
