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The MARRIAGE of
BARRY WICKLOW

RUBY M. AYRES

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"BkxasdChattertoh," "A Bachelob HcssAini,''

"Tfflt Scab," mc.

New York
W. J. Watt & Company

PUBLISHERS

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PUBLIC IIBIIARY

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CopYxiGRT, igai, BT
W. J. WATT & COMPANY

PHnUd in (JU Vnitsd StatM of Amsriea

DEDICATED TO

" TALBOT "

TmSTHER SHE LIKES IT OR NOT.

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MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

CHAPTER I

AND so, dear old thing, I really can't come. I do
hope you won't be very wild with me. I really am
most awfully disappointed, but what would be the
^se of my coming when I ana nearly blind with head-
ache? Write me a line, or, better still, come and see me
one day soon, as a sign that you forgive me for turning
you down at the last moment — ^Yours,

"Agnes Dudley."

Barry Wicklow threw the letter down on the table and
swore. He might have expected something of the kind,
he told himself savagely, his luck had been dead out for
so long.

Of course, she couldn't help having a headache, but all
the same it was a confounded nuisance, just when he
had got a box, too ; he might as well have chucked the
money in the gutter, after all.

He was bitterly disappointed; he had so looked for-
ward to having her to himself for one evening ; he glanced
at his reflection in the glass with rueful eyes.

He had got himself up so carefully ; he flattered him-
self that he looked his best in evening dress. Barry
swore again; he lit a cigarette and walked over to the
window.

A September evening was drawing to a close, the
streets were grey and rather depressing. It seemed to

■J ■»

2 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

suit Barry Wicklow's frame of mind. He pushed the
window wide and leaned his elbows on the sill.

It was a rotten world, he thought, pessimistically. He
wondered if the luck would ever change and come his
way for a bit.

He was fed-up with his own company ; he had counted
so much on this evening with Agnes, and now she had
turned him down because of a confounded headache.

It was not much fun going to a theatre alone, and
there was nobody else whom he cared to invite. He
wished Norman was back in town; he was a bit of an
ass in some ways, but they got on all right together in
Spite of it. He raised himself and yawned.

Should he go, or should he not? The box had cost
four guineas — ^it seemed a shame not to use it.

He went out of the room and took his coat down
from a peg. Might as well go, after all ; it would pass
the evening, anyway; he let himself out of the front
door, slamming it after him.

The driver of a taxi hailed him, but Barry shook
his head. He could not afford the fare for himself
alone; as a matter of fact, he could not afford it for
anyone else either, but, of course, they would have had
a taxi if Agnes had come. He threw his half-smoked
cigarette away angrily. Dash it all! surely she could
have managed better than have a headache to-day of
all days.

He wondered if she really meant to marry him. Some-
times he thought that it was all right and that she did,
and then at other times — ^to-night, for instance. He
shook his shoulders together with a sigh. He was
hanged if he could understand women. He wondered
if she had really got a headache or if it were only an
excuse with which to put him off.

He frovmed as he looked down the grey street. If
only he had got Norman's money! It was the very
deuce of a job to live within one's income when one's
income was so very much under four figures.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 3

If only his father had managed to get bom before
Nonnan's father, what a difference it would have made
in his life. It seemed rather hard that because one twin
had been in rather more of a hurry to have a look at the
world than the other, the son of the one should be a
millionaire, and the son of the other poor devil strug-
gling on something under £600 a year.

Not that he grudged it to Norman actually, but — ^his
thoughts broke as he reached the theatre.

A line of carriages and motor cars were drawn up
outside; the usual crowd jostled one another at the pit
door; inside the foyer daintily-dressed women with im-
maculately-dressed escorts stood and chatted.

Barry scowled. If only Agnes had been here! If
only

"I beg your pardon." He had bumped into a g^rl
who was turning disappointedly away from the box-
office.

She glanced up at him disinterestedly and smiled.

"Oh, it's all right, thank you." She turned at once
to her companion, an elderly woman dressed in a black
bonnet and cloak that were obviously of country make.
"Not a seat to be had," she said disappointedly. "Oh,
isn't it a shame!"

Barry Wicklow was staring at the girl admiringly;
she was very young, but her face was so pretty that for
a moment at least he did not notice that she, too, had
a country cut to her clothes, and that neither she nor
her companion looked as if they wanted to pay half-a-
guinea for stalls.

There was Irish blood in Barry Wicklow's veins;
Irish impulsiveness that often made him butt in head-
long where he was not wanted; he took a quick step
toward the girl.

"I beg your pardon." He spoke with a rush, the
words tumbling over one another in his excitement.
"But I heard what you said just now — ^about there
being no seats, I mean, and I've a box — quite a large

4 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

box, with room for four people, and there's only me to
use it. If you would be so kind — I should be delightedly
— ^awfully delighted, if you and — ^your mother. . . ."

This last was a random shot, but by the smile that
suddenly appeared on the elder woman's face he saw
that it was also a lucky one.

"We ought to have booked," she told Barry con-
fidingly. "But we so seldom come to London, and my
daughter was so sure we should get in all right ; it does
seem a pity that we've come all this way for nothing."

"If you'll share my box I shall be only too delighted,"
Barry said again; he looked at the girl all the time he
spoke, but she flushed and shook her head.

"We're not in evening dress — it would look so queer."

Barry pooh-poohed tfie argument. "It doesn't make
any difference — ^you can take your hats off. If you only
knew how I was hating the idea of my own company all
the evening. Please say yes !"

The girl and her mother exchanged glances. "It's very

kind of you," the girl said, doubtfully. "But "

Barry struck while the iron was hot. "Then that's
settled," he said, cheerfully. "I shall enjoy the piece
ever so much more with someone to talk to."

It was surprising how much happier he felt ; he almost
wished that Agnes could see him and know tfiat he had
not been left so utterly stranded after all.

As he turned to lead the way across the foyer a lady
bowed to him, glancing curiously at his companions.

Barry returned the bow and smiled; he loved being
unconventional, and he knew for a certainty that Mrs.
Baring would be sure to tell Agnes she had seen him with
a girl — and a very pretty girl, too— and that Agnes was
inclined to be jealous.

"I've never been in a box before," the girl told him as
they took their seats.

Barry had placed her so that she was facing the stage;
his own chair was a little in the background.

The girl had taken off her hat and Sie country-made

ti"
«1

9»

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW S

coat; she looked prettier than ever, Barry thought ad-
miringly; he was quite proud to be seen with her; when
the curtain went up he drew his chair a little more
forward.

This was an adventure if you like, he thought with a
little chuckle; he wondered what Norman would say if
he ever heard about it ; Norman was such a stickler for
convention.

He turned to the elder woman.

'You don't live in London ?" he asked.
'No ... we live right down in the country. It's
rather quiet for my daughter, I'm afraid. I wish, for
her sake, we could move, but I've been there all my life."
She fumbled with a not particularly smart handbag on
her lap. "You must please let us pay for our seats,
she said, with great dignity.

Barry flushed crimson. "Oh, please — I beg of you.
He was uncomfortably certain that they had not got
the price of a couple of stalls between them. He was
horribly distressed. "The chairs would have been
empty if you hadn't come," he rushed on. "I shall be
only too honoured." But he knew he was making his
appeal in vain.

"We couldn't think of allowing you to pay for us,"
he was told. "It's very kind of you to let us share your
box ... if you will tell me how much . . ."

Barry told an agitated lie.

"The box is 20s. — ^and there are four seats — so your
share is half . . . but I do wish you would allow
me • . .

He broke off. He had to pocket the money without
further protest. The girl's mother closed her bag with
a snap, and leaned back more comfortably.

"Now I can enjoy myself," she said.

The play bored Barry. Perhaps he was not in the
mood for it, or perhaps he found the girl at his side
more attractive than the leading lady on the stage, for
he certainly looked at her a great deal more, and the

6 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

more he looked at her the prettier he thought she was.

Barry had all an Irishman's susceptibility. Before
the first act was finished he had forgotten his disappoint-
ment about Agnes Dudley. Before the second act was
finished he had made up his mind that this chance ac-
quaintance was going further than the door of the
theatre.

He wondered if he might ask their name. He won-
dered if he might venture to present them with his card.
He felt in his waistcoat pocket, but he had no cards
with him.

The girl was very quiet. She was entirely engrossed
in the stage.

"Do you like the play?" Barry asked her once; he
was a trifle piqued at the little attention she gave him.

She turned starry eyes to him for an instant. "Oh,
I think it's lovely! Do you know that it's my ambition
to be an actress?"

Barry frowned. "You'd hate it," he said bluntly.
"It's a rotten life."

She smiled disbelievingly.

"It is ! 'Pon my word it is !" Barry assured her. "You
ought to go round to the back of the stage, you can't
judge at all from what you see this side of the foot-
lights." But she was not listening; she was looking at
the stage again, and Barry relapsed into silence.

He had never seen anyone so pretty in all his life,
that was what he was thinking; he had never seen .any-
one with such beautiful hair, such a dear little chin, such
long lashes.

He liked her mother, too; in spite of the home-made
severity of the clothes she wore, he recognised that there
was a sort of quiet dignity about her; oh, he was cer-
tainly not going to lose sight of them when the evening
was over.

But Barry's rotten luck still held ; he had no chance to
ask any of the questions that were burning his tongue;
the crowd in the passage outside the box prevented

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 7

conversation as they were leaving, and when they reached
the street it was pouring with rain.

"I'll get a taxi if you'll wait."

Everyone was calling for cabs. Commissionaires in
white mackintoshes, shiny with rain, hurried to and fro.

Barry dashed out into the street; he could at least
drive with them wherever they were going, he told him-
self ; he had to go some yards before he could find a
disengaged taxi. He drove back with it in style. His
hat and coat were wet, but he did not care; the crowd
had thinned somewhat now. He looked eagerly towards
the spot where he had left the girl and her mother, but
they were no longer there.

He went into the theatre again; he searched, every-
where; finally, when he was almost the last person left
in the theatre, he had to give up and drive away alone
in sulky state.

"Wonder if they did it purposely," he thought with
sudden suspicion. "They might have waited." He
squared his shoulders. "Well, I don't care ; I'll find 'em
again if I have to search every corner of London. Jove!
that girl was a beauty !"

He let himself into his flat with an irritable hand; the
old depression had fallen over him again; he considered
that he had been treated very badly; first Agnes — and
now this girl.

He shut the door behind him with a slam and went on
to the sitting room. A man was sitting there in one
of the armchairs, his feet stuck up on another.

Barry stood in the doorway, looking at him.

"So you've come back at last," he said, not very
affably.

Norman Wicklow drained a tumbler of whisky he
held in a white, rather effeminate hand. "Yes," he
said, "I've come back."

He spoke with rather a drawl. He yawned and
settled his head more comfortably against the cushions
of the chair.

8 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

"Sit down," he said, after a moment. "You get on my
nerves standing there."

Barry threw his hat down and took off his wet coat.

They were first cousins, these two men, and yet they
were as unlike each other as it is possible to be.

Barry was tall and rather heavily built.

"Lumbering," was how Norman Wicklow described
him. He had brown, nondescript hair that grew rather
shaggily and a rather boyish, not in the least good-look-
ing face until he smiled, but when he smiled even Agnes
Dudley thought Barry's smile was beautiful.

For the rest, he was irresponsible, kind-hearted and
rather fickle; people who did not like him, and they
were few, said that they would be sorry for the girl
whom Barry ultimately married; and people who did
like him, and their name was legion, said that she would
be a lucky woman !

Barry himself, had no very exalted ideas on the sub-
ject; he meant to get married and he hoped to marry
Agnes. She was a widow, and sufficiently young and
sufficiently charming to make her desirable; and she
had money.

This last fact sometimes made Barry feel uncom-
fortable; he never had any money himself, and he quite
realised that if he were wise he would marry a woman
who was not similarly afflicted; but he had a morbid
idea of being thought mercenary, and he certainly
would never have proposed to Agnes Dudley for her
money alone.

He really liked her, was in love with her, so he would
have said ; if he had been a rich man, and she penniless,
he believed he would still have been as anxious to marry
her.

He was four years older than his cousin, but he did
not look it; the something "lumbering" in his per-
sonality gave him a certain air of you&fulness, though
as a matter of fact he was twenty-eig^t. Norman was
fair and curly-haired and very good looking, and he had

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 9

been thoroughly spoilt all his life; the only person of
whom he stood in the least in awe being his father.

"And what have you been doing amongst the turnips
all this time?" Barry asked abruptly.

He sat down on the edge of the table and looked at
his cousin with a sort of tolerant affection.

They had been brought up together, and though in
his heart Barry considered Norman "a bit of an ass,"
he was really fond of him. He asked his question with-
out much interest, and was surprised at the sudden
change in his cousin's face.

"Oh, I've had a great time," he said. "A great time !"

Barry stared; after a moment: "It's rained heaven's
hard nearly every day," he said dryly. "And in spite
of that you've had a great time. I congratulate you."

Norman sat up with sudden energy. "There was a
little girl down there," he said eloquently.

Barry whistled. "What — another!" he said.

Norman laughed. "Oh, go on ! chaff as much as you
like ! It's serious this time, though. I'm going to marry
her — if she will have me," he added after a moment.

Barry said "Humph!" he rubbed his chin and his
eyes grew anxious. "Told your Guv'nor?" he asked
bluntly.

The younger man flushed. "Not yet ; he'll disapprove,
of course; not that I care." Barry got up from the
table and lit a cigarette. "Like that, is it?" he said.

Norman nodded. "Yes — just like that."

There was an embarrassed silence. "Well, I hope it'll
be all right," Barry said sententiously. "Have a drink."
He pushed the whisky across.

"Who is she?" he asked, after a moment. Norman
laughed. "Well, the Guv'nor will probably say that
she isn't a lady," he said, defiantly; he flushed up, un-
consciously squaring his rather sloping shoulders. "But
I — well, for once I don't care a damn what the Guv'nor
says," he added, recklessly.

CHAPTER II

FOR two days Barry Wicklow neither wrote to Agnes
Dudley or went near her.
He was paying her out for disappointing him, so
he told himself, whereas in reality he merely stayed
away because he had no very great inclination to do any-
thing else.

On the third morning she sent him a note. "Have
I offended you beyond hope of forgiveness? or will
you come and lunch with me to-day ?"

Barry went; he put on a new tie in honour of the
occasion, and bought a red carnation for his button-
hole.

Mrs. Dudley greeted him rather coolly, though there
was a little gleam of anxiety in her eyes.

"You didn't believe in that headache?" was her first
question.

Barry coloured. "I did — 'pon my word, I did. But
I was wild — it seemed rotten hard luck."

She looked down. "Were you — very lonely?" she
asked after a moment.

There was a little silence. "Mrs. Baring has told
you she saw me, of course," said Barry bluntly.

She raised her eyebrows;* very fine eyebrows they
were, dark and delicately pencilled.

"She mentioned that you had two funny people with
you in the box."

They weren't funny people," said Barry indignantly.
They were very charming."

She laughed without much enthusiasm. "You always
are so unconventional; but don't let us quarrel, it must
be lunch-time."

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 11

Barry did not move. "I'm sorry, I can't stay to
lunch; I just came to tell you I've got an appointment
at one."

She looked genuinely disappointed. "An appointment
you can't put off — even for me ?" she asked softly.

"I'm sorry," Barry said again stiffly. "It's my Uncle
John, Norman's father, you know."

He made his adieux coldly; he left the house fuming;
it was just like a woman, he told himself. "Funny
people," indeed. He had never seen a prettier girl in
' all his life, and as for her mother — well, it was a pity

there were not more women in the world like her.

He went back to his rooms; he wished he had not
gone to see Agnes at all, she had thoroughly got him
on the raw. As he opened the door a servant came to
meet him.

"Mr. John Wicklow is here, if you please, sir."

"Damn !" said Barry, under his breath.

He had told Mrs. Dudley that he had an appointment
with his uncle, but he was not at all pleased to find that
his uncle was really waiting for him. He looked rather
surly as he walked into the room.

Mr. Wicklow was standing back to the grate, with
spread coat-tails, though it was a warm afternoon and
there was no fire.

He was a tall, rather pompous-looking man, with some-
thing of Barry's lumbering appearance; but whereas
; Barry had no pretentions to good looks, this father of

Norman's was an exceedinglv handsome man.

He had iron-grey hair and^ a grey moustache, a long,
straight nose, and eagle eyes that just now searched his
nephew's face rather quizzically.

The two men shook hands. "Norman out?" Mr.
Wicklow asked.

"Yes ; gone away for the week-end."

*'Ah ! to the country, I suppose ?"

Barry glanced up. "I believe so— yes."

12 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

There was a little pause. "And what do you know
about this infernal business ?" Mr. Wicklow demanded.

Barry stared. "What infernal business?" he asked
blankly.

His uncle was very red in the face. "This — this —
liaison of Norman's. He's written me a ranting letter —
a long-winded piece of tom-foolery — about some girl, a
farmer's daughter. I wondered why he'd taken such a
fancy to the country — ^never could stand it at one time!
Came up here to live with you, because he said my house
was too quiet for him ! A nice state of things ! Some
scheming hussy. Who is she, I want to know? I de-
mand to know !"

Barry shrugged his shoulders. "I haven't the ghost
of an idea; he hasn't told me. I know there is a girl,
and that's all."

He's a damned young fool !" the elder man sputtered.
A damned young fool ! Taken with the first pretty face
he sees. I won't hear of it — I refuse to hear of it. I'll
cut him off with a penny! I've my own idea as to the
sort of wife he's to marry. A farmer's daughter, indeed !
Three acres and a cow sort of business."

Barry checked a smile. "There are lots of gentle-
men farmers," he protested mildly.

"Lots of gentlemen fools, you mean, sir!" was the
rather complex retort. "I tell you, I won't hear of it.
Norman is to marry the woman I choose for him. My
only son! I'll cut him off with a penny. Afraid to
face me, that's what he is, or he wouldn't have written
four pages of twaddle!"

"Is he engaged to the girl, then ?"

"Engaged ! I should hope not !" was the roaring reply.
"And he never will be, if I know it ! Says she is too
good for him, a confounded farmer's daughter! Says
he's afraid she'll refuse him ! Why, she'll jump at him, I
tell you, jump at him !"

Barry began to look bored. "Well, I can't help it," he
said, laconically. "It's no use raving at me. I'm sorry

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 13

Norman's such a silly ass; if I could do anything I
would, but I can't."

"And I say you can," Mr. Wicklow broke in agitatedly.
"In fact, that's why I'm here. I've been a father to
you, Barry, and I look to you to save my son. You're
older than he is ; you're a man of the world."

Barry laughed ; he thought that in some ways Norman
could give him points.

"He won't listen to me," he said positively. "He's
not a bit the sort of chap one can preach at."

Mr. Wicklow came a step nearer.

"I have done a great deal for you in the last twenty
years," he said with sudden earnestness. "I have treated
you as if you had been my own boy, you've had every-
thing your cousin has had, I have not made any differ-
ence with regard to the way you have been brought up
and educated, and I ask you to do something for me
now— in return 1"

Barry looked uncomfortable; he had never seen his
uncle in such a mood before. He answered awkwardly
that he would do what he could— of course he would,
but — dash it all. . . .

Three months ago," Mr. Wicklow broke in, curtly,
you came and asked me to pay your debts, and I re-
fused. You haven't forgotten?"

Barry flushed up to the eyes. "It's not a thing that
can be easily forgotten," he said, rather shortly. It
was a thing that had rankled with him ever since —
both the asking, and the curt manner of his uncle's
refusal.

The elder man frowned.

"Very well — I've a proposal to make," he said, after
a moment. "You help me put an end to this — this non-
sensical infatuation of Norman's, and I'll pay your debts
and give you a handsome present as well. What do
you say?"

Barry raised his eyes slowly. "You're not serious,
of course ?" he said blankly, after a moment.

14 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

"Not serious ? I was never more so in my life. Come,
my boy, think it over. You're young and unattached^
and a pretty face more or less — what is it?"

There was a moment's silence; then Barry rose to
his feet.

"Are you proposing that I cut Norman out ?" he asked
blankly.

Mr. Wicklow shrugged his shoulders. "If you like
to put it that way," he said carelessly.

"Come, Barry, you know you're always a favourite
with women; and, after all — just a country girl! You
shan't regret it, I give you my word you shan't."

He waited a moment, but Barry did not answer. Mr.
Wicklow picked up his hat.

"Don't answer hurriedly, think it over and let me
know," he said affably. "But there's no time to lose."
He looked at Barry rather anxiously, but the young man
did not move or answer, and Mr. Wicklow went quietly
away.

Barry walked over to the table then, and helped him-
self to a generous whisky. He felt rather as if he had
been dreaming; it had been such a preposterous inter-
view. How, in the name of all that was holy, could he
calmly appropriate the girl on whom Norman had set
his heart? A girl whom he had never seen, and never
wished to see ! It was all rot to say that he was always
a favourite with women — ^all rot ! He thought suddenly
of Agnes Dudley.

He was practically engaged to her. He really wished
to marrv her. In the light of this new and monstrous
suggestion, he forgot their little tiff; he remembered
only that she was a delightful woman, and that he
wished to have her for his wife.

His uncle did not know what he was talking about;
the whole idea was preposterous. He should refuse,
of course he should. There was no need to even think
it over. As for his debts . . .

"A note, if you plejtse, sir !"

MARRiAgE of BARRY WICKLOW IS

Barry took the little note oflF the tray and tore It open
eagerly. It was from Agnes. No doubt she was as
anxious as he to make up their little tiff; no doubt she
wanted to see him again. There was a little silence.

The seconds ticked slowly by; the maid at the door
fidgeted uncomfortably. "The messenger is waiting,
sir," she ventured at last.

Barry roused himself with an effort. "No answer/'
he said, mechanically.

When the door had shut he passed a hand across his
eyes dazedly; he could not believe that he had read the
little note correctly :

"Dear Barry, — I have been thinking things over
since you left me this morning, and I have come to
the conclusion that it will be better for us both for
our friendship to end. Though I have said nothing
before, I have noticed a great change in you during
the last few weeks, and I must admit that I no
longer feel to you as I did. I hope we shall always
be friends, and am sure you will wish me every
happiness when I tell you that Laurence Hulbert
asked me to marry him last night and that I have
accepted him. — ^Ever your sincere friend,

"Agnes Dudley."
When the first shock had passed a little, Barry Wick-
low flew into as fine a rage as a young man could.

He stamped round the room and kicked things about
He had been made a fool of — the unpardonable sin!
Agnes had been leading him on for all these weeks, had
allowed him to look upon her as his property, and now
she had thrown him over — ^thrown him over as carelessly
as if he had been an old glove, and for Hulbert !

Hulbert, whom he disliked more than any chap in
London — Hulbert, to whom he owed money.

This last recollection was gall and wormwood ; to owe
money to the man who had cut him out, to tfie man
whom Agnes was to marry ! He would die of the shame
of it ! He would never be able to hold up his head again.

16 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

He was naturally a hot-tempered man, and his Irish
blood rose now to boiling point. He took his hat, and
a taxi round to Mrs. Dudley's flat. He strode past the
astonished maid with a face like the Day of Judgment.
He was in the drawing-room before she could say a
word or stop him, and had slammed the door behind
him, standing with his back to it.

Mrs. Dudley looked up startled from her writing-table;
then she laid down her pen and waited quietly. There
was a little smile in her eyes, only Barry was too blinded
with rage to see it.

"I got your letter," he said, hoarsely.

He took it from his pocket, tore it across and across,
and dashed the pieces down on the table.

"There's my answer to it," he said, "and my congratu-
lations. If you prefer that little rat to me, marry him,
and welcome. I suppose you've been playing up for
this all along, when you refused to come to the theatre
the other night. Well, I suppose I'm well rid of you, if
that's all its been worth."

His voice broke a little for the first time. "I haven't
got Hulbert's money, I know, but if that's all you care
for "

"Barry!" She tried to stem the rush of words, but
he took no notice. He went on, passionately: "You're
all the same, you women; you lead a chap on and pre-
tend to care for him, and then you chuck him over, and
leave him to get out of it as best he can. I thought bet-
ter of you, I thought you really liked me. . . ." His
voice broke.

"Barry!" She rose from her chair now, and held
her hand to him, but he moved back a step.

"You talk the usual rubbish about friendship. What
do I want with your friendship? I've asked you to
marry me half a dozen times, and you've put me oflF
and put me off. Not a man in a hundred would have had
the patience I have. But I'm through with It now."

He paused a moment ; he looked round the room with

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 17

burning eyes. Hurt pride much more than a damaged
heart drove him on.

"I hope to God I shall never see you again !" he said,
violently. And he was gone before she ODuld say a
word or try to stop him.

She stood quite still, listening to his furious, depart-
ing steps, and the slam of the street door} then she
laughed.

So he did care for her, after all. Well, she had dis-
covered that at least, and it had been worth while.

She loved him when he was in a rage. Lately he had
been rather a tame lover. She was delighted that she
had so easily roused him ; the memory of his passionate
eyfes and stumbling words made her heart glow. He
would come back soon — perhaps that very night — and
then she would forgive him, and they would be married
soon, quite soon.

As for Laurence Hulbert ! Barry was quite right, he
certainly was a little rat! She picked up a portrait of
Barry, framed in silver on the writing table — and
kissed it.

He was a man, in spite of everything. She liked his
boisterous, blundering rages. She kissed his picture
again. He would come back, of course he would.

But out in the street Barry was striding away at a
furious rate. He carried his hat in his hand; the blood
was hammering in his temples; he could not remember
that he had ever been so furiously angry. Fooled, and
by a woman!

He tried to remember what he had said to her, but
could not. He only hoped that he had not spared her.
He was quite sure that, whatever he had said, he had
meant it all, and a good deal more besides. He had
let off steam, anyway, and was already feeling better.

If he met Hulbert, he quite made up his mind that
he would tell him exactly what he thought of the whole

business. As for that money he owed the little cad

Cold sweat broke out on Barry's forehead; he hated

18 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

the thought of owing that man money; quite a lot of
money it was, too, which Hulbert had advanced from
time to time. He realised that by now it must have run
into several hundreds of pounds.

Agnes would get to know of it, no doubt they would
talk him over together. Barry ground his teeth; if he
could only pay the little blighter back ! But it was hope-
less to think of it ! There was only his uncle to whom

he could turn, and he Barry drew a long breath, his

interview of that morning with Norman's father came |

back with a flash of illumination.

"You help me to put an end to this infatuation of
Norman's, and I'll pay your debts and give you a hand-
some present as well."

It was impossible, of course! But if only it hadn't
been. He walked on more soberly.

It was out of the question, of course; and even sup- .

posing it had been possible, Norman was his cousin ; and '

to do a mean trick like that ! He shrugged his shoulders
and dismissed the thought. Besides, what guarantee had
he that this girl, whoever she might be, would look at
him ?

He knew that he had particular claims to good looks ;
Norman was a thousand times, handsomer. But deep
down in his heart Barry knew also that there was a great
deal of truth in what his uncle had said — ^that he was a
favourite with women.

The knowledge gave him back something of his lost
self-esteem. After all, Agnes wasn't the only woman in
the world. He squared his shoulders. '

An)rway, it was a moral impossibility to do as his uncle
had suggested; not that it was very likely Norman was
any more serious over this girl that he had been over a ^

dozen others about whom he had raved in the past. Nor- j

man had all the Wicklow fickleness. But deliberately to
try to cut him out was too much.

Barry hailed a taxi and told the man to drive to tfa^
hotel where his uncle was staying. He would just tell

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 19

the old chap that it couldn't be done at any price, that it
wasn't a job in his line at all. The sooner it was finally
settled, the better.

He was annoyed to find Norman at the hotel instead
of his uncle. He looked at him rather disagreeably.
"Thought you were away," he said, shortly.
"I was — I came back this morning."
'*Oh!" There was a little pause.
'What do you want with the Guv'nor?" Norman
asked, suspiciously.

Barry did not answer. He picked up a magazine and
started flicking over its pages.

Norman laughed C3mically. *'I suppose it's true,
then?" he said, after a moment

Barry glanced up. "What's true?" he askcXl, with a
growl.

"That the little widow has given you the go-by. I
heard them talking at the club this morning, and didn't
believe it ; but I suppose it's true — ^by the look of you."

Barry sent the magazine spinning down the polished
table. "And what if it is true ?" he demanded, violently.
"Poor old chap!" There was something mocking in
his cousin's voice. "I never really thought you'd pull
it off," he added. "She could see through you right
enough, my boy; she knew that you found her money-
bags more attractive than you found her."

Barry flushed crimson. "You mind your own infernal
business," he said furiously, "and get back to your dairy-
maid."

The words were a direct insult, but they were pro-
voked, and Barry regretted them bitterly as soon as they
were spoken. He would have apologised if he had been
given time, but Norman caught him up at once.

"I suppose there's some excuse to be made for you, as
you've been jilted," he said, stingingly. "But I must
say that Mrs. Dudley has more sense than I gave her
credit for. I dare say she heard about the g^rl you were
with in the theatre the other night — everycme else seems

20 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

to have heard, and to have been laughing at you. It
isn't likely Agnes was going to stand 3iat." He looked
at Barry with a sneer on his handsome face. "Where
did you pick her up?" he asked with a detestable
inflection.

Barry was white to the lips now. All his life he had
stood a great deal from Norman, realising their differ-
ent positions, and how good Norman's father had been
to him. But to-day he was at the end of his endurance ;
to-day he felt that he could not stand his cousin's sneers
and jibes. He made a furious lunge at him across the
table, and missed. There was a moment's silence, then
Norman broke out:

"That's not the way to get your debts paid, my dear
chap! And I suppose that's why you're here. If it's
money you've come for, it will pay you to keep a civil
tongue in your head. There's a limit — even to what my
father will stand, you know."

Barry had pulled himself together. He was horribly
ashamed of his loss of self-control. He had never had
a serious row with his cousin before. It gave him cause
for wonder now, as he looked at Norman's sneering face,
and for the first time in his life saw the dislike that
looked at him from the younger man's handsome eyes.

Had it always really existed? he asked himself, with
a sort of shock. Had there always been a sort of veiled
hostility between them that had never shown itself until
this moment?

He was so easy-going himself; it had never once en-
tered his head that perhaps Norman had always been
jealous of him, had always resented his adoption.

Norman had picked up his hat and coat. He saun-
tered to the door with an assumption of carelessness he
was far from feeling.

"You are — ^waiting, I suppose?" he submitted, inso-
lently.

"Yes," said Barry. "I am."

When his cousin had gone he went over to the vnndow

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 21

and flung it wide. H^ hated the smell of scented cigar-
ettes in 5ie room. Norman always aiFected scented cig-
arettes. It struck him for the first time that there were
quite a number of other things about this cousin of his
that he also hated.

It was a shock to his happy-go-lucky nature; he was a
man who wished to be friends with everyone. He could
not understand why it had been such an easy thing to
quarrel with Norman. This had been an eventful day.
First the scene with his uncle, then Agnes, and now Nor-
man. He wondered if it had been his own fault in each
case; it seemed improbable.

Norman had said preposterous things ; about that night
at the theatre, for instance. Barry's blood boiled. What
an uncharitable world it was. He took up arms in
passionate defence of the girl who had sat beside him
with such quiet attention. He supposed he had Mrs.
Baring to thank for all the gossip ; he liad always dis-
trusted that woman.

He glanced at his watch — ^nearly five. He rang the
bell, and asked the maid if she knew what time Mr.
Wicklow would be in.

"He said about five, sir. He said if anybody called
I was to be sure to ask them to wait."

"Meaning me, I suppose," Barry thought grimly, as
she went away. He wished he had not come; he had
only walked into f urth/er unpleasantness. He had almost
decided not to wait when he heard his uncle's step out-
side, and a moment later he was in the room.

He looked pleased to see Barry. He greeted him
heartily. "I hope you haven't been waiting long," he
said.

Barry did not answer; he knew what his uncle was
assuming. He wondered how he was to disillusion him.

Mr. Wicklow brought out a box of cigars.

"About our little conversation this morning," he said,
tentatively. "I've been making a few enquiries, Barry,
and I hear that this girl is — ^most undesirable, shall we

22 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

say ? My informant was quite a disinterested party. No,
I shall not mention names, but I am more determined
than ever to put a stop to this nonsense with Norman."

"It will be a hard job/' said Barry flatly. "Norman
isn't a child."

"He is an extremely foolish youth," Mr. Wicklow as-
serted calmly. "This is not the first time I have had
this trouble with him, as you know."

Barry knew it well enough. He had a vivid recollec-
tion of other occasions when Norman had wanted to rush
oiF and get married to some girl who had taken his fancy ; .
occasions when he had declared himself broken-hearted
and his life ruined if opposition prevented him from do-
ing so. But he made no comment.

"I look to you, Barry," said Mr. Wicklow again, "to
help me."

Barry moved restlessly. "I can't — I hate the job!
Besides, it's pure conceit to think I could do it. I'm
sorry, but it's no good."

Mr. Wicklow drew his chair closer to the table, and
leaned his arms on it, looking earnestly at his nephew.

"Barry," he said, "I'll pay your debts and give you
five thousand pounds besides if you'll do this for me.
Norman is my only son ; it will break his mother's heart
if he marries this girl. Besides, it can't be a serious at-
tachment ; I know him so well. It's not him I am afraid
of, but the girl. She means to have him, she'll marry him
before he knows where he is — ^before he realises that he
is making a complete fool of himself." He held out his
hand. "Come, Barry, it's not much I'm asking you, just
a harmless flirtation, a transfer of affections — tempo-
rarily."

Barry did not look up; he was thinking of his cousin
as he had looked not half an hour ago, his sneering words,
with their hidden dislike and veiled animosity, and some-
thing in his heart longed to be able to hit back — ^hard !

After all, perhaps it was not a serious attachment!
Norman had had so many similar affairs, and they had

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 23

all ended in smoke. He raised his eyes and met his
uncle's. After a moment he put out his hand, unwillingly
enough, and took the elder man's.

"Oh, all right," he said gruffly. "If you're sure it's not
serious; and if I fail. ..."

Mr. Wicklow laughed. "You won't fail, Barry," he
said confidently. "I know you."

Agnes Dudley waited a whole day for Barry to come
back and eat humble-pie. She was so sure that his pas-
sionate anger had not been final ; she knew him so well,
she told herself. His anger was like champagne, all
fizzle and fuss at first, but soon dying down.

Of course, he had not been serious when he said he
never wished to see her again. She had only to wait
and he would turn up to sue humbly for forgiveness.

But the hours dragged by and there was no Barry.
Every time a bell rang she was sure it must be he ; every
time a taxi raced down the street her heart began to
throb in eager anticipation. But a whole day passed, and
there was no Barry.

She began to torture herself with doubts. Supposing
he never came again; supposing for once in his life he
really meant what he said; supposing this time she had
driven him a little too far?

When evening came she could bear it no longer; she
rang up Barry's rooms. The 'phone was answered by
the maid. "Mr. Wicklow was out," she said.

"Out !" Agnes Dudley echoed the word eagerly. "Do
you— of course you don't know if he is coming to see
me this evening? I am Mrs. Dudley."

There was a little pause; she could hear the heavy
beating of her heart. Then the maid's voice, answering
deprecatingly :

"I couldn't say, I am sure, ma'am, but — ^but Mr. Wick-
low said he was going out of town. He took a port-
manteau with him, ma'am, and told me he did not expect
to be back for a fortnight "

24 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

Agnes caught her breath. "Out of town ! Oh, where
has he gone?" There was a ring of very genuine distress
in her voice. "Surely he left an address ?"

But the answer came back with unmistakable truth.

"No, ma'am, Mr. Wicklow left no address; and he
said he should not be wanting any of his letters sent on."

CHAPTER III

ONCE Barry Wicklow made up his mind to do a
thing he went on with it right away; he never
allowed himself time in which to re-consider it,
which was sometimes a good thing, sometimes a bad.

In this case he did not much care how it turned out.
He made his few preparations recklessly* His heart was
still full of a smouldering anger against Agnes Dudley,
and against his cousin. He considered that they had
both treated him rottenly. His one gratification, as he
listened to his uncle's last words of instruction, was that
he hoped he was about to pay them both out ; beyond that
he did not care in the least what happened.

"You haven't told me the name of the blessed girl," he
said presently, with irritation. "How on earth am I to
find her?"

Mr. Wicklow produced a letter from his pocket.

"Don't be so impatient, my dear boy," he said mildly,
more mildly than Barry had ever heard him speak before.
"I can give you all the information you require. The — er
— girl's name is Hazel Bentley." He paused and looked
at Barry. "A ridiculous name !" he said, with exaspera-
tion. "It savours of the theatre."

Barry was scribbling the name on the back of an en-
velope, "Rather a pretty name," he said absently. "Ad-
dress, please?"

Mr. Wicklow referred again to his letter. "Qeave
Farm, Bedmund," he said. "I understand that she lives
with an uncle who is a small farmer." He folded the
letter and restored it to his pocket. "And now, Barry, if
you can give me some idea as to what you propose to

do "

26 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

Barry gave an impatient exclamation. "I haven't any
more idea than the dead. I shall put up at an inn, I
suppose, if there is one, and have a look round."

He laughed shamefacedly. "It sounds like a romance
of the dark ages," he said, with a sort of savagery. "I'm
the villain of the piece, plotting to carry oiF the fair
heroine." He shrugged his shoulders. "Well — ^if I
fail "

"You won't fail," said Mr. Wicklow, positively.

There was a moment's silence. "After all," he went on
rather uncomfortably, "there's nothing in the whole pro-
ceeding. You simply work up a harmless flirtation."

"It won't be so easy to do. Supposing Norman takes
it into his head to come down? A nice sort of fool I
shall look with him chipping in and wanting to punch
my head."

"Norman won't 'chip in,' as you put it," his uncle as-
sured him. "I am taking Norman home with me to-night
and keeping him there — indefinitely."

"He may refuse to stay."

Mr. Wicklow dismissed the idea as unworthy of con-
sideration.

"You get away first thing in the morning," he said.
"There's nothing like striking while the iron is hot, Barry ;
and when you get there" — ^he smiled rather nervously at
Barry's sullen face — "well, I'll back an Irishman all the
world over to win a girl's heart quicker than any other

man."

Barry's face flamed. "Confound it all, I don't want the
wretched girl's heart," he said wrathfuUy. "If it's going
to mean anything like that "

Mr. Wicklow saw he had made a mistake ; he rose to
his feet. "I was only chaffing, my boy. It doesn't mean
anything like that. Get her to break with Norman- —
that's all I want; and if anything unforeseen should
happen, trust me to stand by you."

"The only thing that will happen will be that I
come back in twenty- four hours," Barry declared ; but he

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 27

cheered up a little; after all there would be a certain
amount of fun in it, he thought, and if this Hazel, what-
ever her name was, chose to give him the cold shoulder
he could but pack his traps and catch a train home and
leave Norman to his fate.

He went to bed and slept soundly in spite of the fact
that he was a recently jilted man ; he woke up feeling
remarkably fit and ready for an)rthing.

He was just ready to leave his rooms when the tele-
phone bell whirred; Barry hesitated, staring doubtfully
at the receiver, then he went over and took it down.

It was Mr. Wicklow — ^Barry frowned a little as he
listened to his complacent voice.

"That you, my boy? Good! I just thought you'd like to
know that Norman has sprained his ankle and will have
to lie up for a week or two; so you needn't be afraid
that he'll turn up at Bedmund. How did he do it?
Getting out of a taxi, I believe. I'm taking him down to
his mother this morning. We had to stay in town last
night, after all."

There was a little pause. "Well, good-bye and good
luck," said Mr. Wicklow.

Barry hung up the receiver without answering; on the
whole he was rather relieved to hear of Norman's acci-
dent. It gave him a free hand ; he felt almost cheerful as
he threw his bag into a taxi and told the man to drive
to King's Cross.

It was a sunny morning, and sunshine always affected
Barry's spirits; he leaned forward, whistling softly, and
looked at himself in the narrow strip of mirror.

Not such a bad-looking chap, the reflection told him;
and in spite of Norman's curls and classical nose, Barry
registered a vow to eat his hat if he couldn't effectively
cut him out with this little Hazel girl and win that five
thousand.

CHAPTER IV

THE tall man in the brown leggings looked Barry
Wicklow up and down with humorous eyes.
"How far to Bedmund?" he said thoughtfully.
He spoke with a slight country burr in his voice, which
was rather pleasing.

"Well, it's a three mile walk from here across the
fields ; further round by the road."

Barry swore. He dropped the suit-case he carried and
mopped his face.

"They told me at the station it was only three miles,
and I've walked about a dozen already," he said irri-
tably. He looked up at his companion with a scowl. "Is
it utterly impossible to get a conveyance in this corner
of the world?" he demanded.

The man in the brown leggings rubbed his chin ; he had
a firm, strong hand, a little work and weather rough-
ened.

"Well," he said at last slowly, "I've got a trap. What
part of Bedmund do you want to get to ?"

Barry hadn't the remotest idea, and said so frankly.

The eyes of the two men met, and suddenly Barry
laughed.

"The fact is," he said more cheerfully, "I've never been
here before, and I don't know my bearings. I heard that
the country was fairly decent round Bedmund, so thought
I'd make it my headquarters and do a bit of walking."
He stopped. The man in the brown leggings was look-
ing down at Barry's boots.

"You won't get far in those boots," he said bluntly.

Barry coloured. "I know. I've got some others in

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 29

^y bag;," he explained in a hurry. "But, I say, if you
really could give me a lift ? . . ."

He glanced eagerly towards the small dogcart drawn
to the side of the roadway.

"I suppose you're a farmer?" he submitted.

"I suppose I am." The answer sounded fairly ironical.
**And if you care about a lift you'd better come along
— I'm in a hurry."

Barry did not particularly care for the blunt way in
which he spoke, but he was tired and cross, and anything
was better than a further tramp across ploughed fields
and down dusty roads ; so he picked up his bag and fol-
lowed the man in the brown leggings to the dogcart.

"I suppose there's a hotel or an inn place where I can
put up ?" he asked more cheerfully when they were jog-
ging along down the road. The mare between the shafts
was evidently not particularly young; her feet clop-
clopped languidly at each step, and the lightly-built trap
jolted rather uncomfortably ; but for once Barry was not
disposed to be critical. He was only thankful for the
lift.

The man beside him glanced down with a sort of pity-
ing scorn.

"There's the Load of Hay," he said laconically. "It's
a beer-house, but I never heard that they had any rooms
to let."

Barry said "Oh!" rather blankly. "I dare say I can
get fixed up somewhere," he added. "Perhaps you can
put me on the right track."

The man seemed to be considering; once or twice he
looked at Barry with a sort of suspicion in his eyes.

"My sister lets rooms in the summer-time," he said
after a moment. "They're only plain, but if you're not
too particular "

Barry assured him that he should be only too delighted,
that he did not care where he put lip as long as the
place was clean.

"Oh, it's clean enough," his companion assured him

30 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

dryly. "I'm not sure that we can take you, mind ; it was
only an idea of mine. If you care to come up to the
farm and see "

Barry said again that he would be only too delighted,
that the suggestion was most kind.

"It's just business," he was informed unemotionally.

He relapsed into silence after that ; it was uphill work
trying to talk to this farmer; Barry looked at him rather
resentfully. He was not a young man, he might have
been anything between forty and fifty, and his face was
tanned to the colour of mahogany by wind and sun.

His hair was slightly grizzled at the temples, and there
was a fine network of lines round eyes which were start-
lingly blue against his sunburnt face. He wore a rough
tweed coat and a woolwork waistcoat, and there was a
horseshoe pin stuck in his tie.

He turned his head abruptly, and met Barry's inter-
ested eyes.

"Well," he said, "and what do you make of me?"

There was a sort of blunt humour in the words, and
Barry coloured. "I beg your pardon," he said awk-
wardly. "I didn't know I was staring so hard."

He sat up and looked out over the country. The day
was drawing to a close; there was a faint haze rising
from the land; the sky was streaked purple and yellow
with the sunset ; away in the distance the sloping roof of
a farmhouse was turned to red in the glow, and beyond
it were hills — ^grey hills.

The man beside him followed his gaze. "That's my
farm," he said. He turned the horse towards an open
gate ; the trap rocked and rumbled for a few yards over
rough ground before it reached a made road again.

There was a sloping lawn in front of the house and a
pond with ducks scratching and cackling round its mar-
gin. The farmer got down and hitched the mare's bridle
to a post ; then he came back and took Barry's suit-case.

"You'd better come and ask about the rooms," he said
stoically, "I don't know if anybody's in."

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 31

Barry followed silently. It was a rather picturesque
spot, he admitted, but dull — deadly dull! Somehow he
did not think he would be staying here for long.

The front door of the farmhouse stood open. The
floor inside was stained and polished — a bright warm-
ing-pan hung directly opposite the door, and somewhere
a grandfather clock was ticking solemnly.

The farmer set Barry's bag down in the narrow hall.
He went to the foot of the rather steep stairs and called
up: "Is anyone at home?"

A girl's voice answered him instantly. "Coming,
Cncle Joe."

The farmer turned back and pushed open the door of
a sitting-room on the right. "Walk in," he said bluntly.

Barry obeyed. He had to stoop to enter, as the door
frame was so low. The room was long and narrow, and
a long black beam of oak ran lengthways across the
low ceiling.

A black cat lay asleep on the wide window ledge.
There was a big bowl of late roses on the table.

Barry stood twisting his hat. He should rather like
to stay in this house, he thought; there was something
about it that made a fellow feel at home, in spite of the
farmer's bluntness. He thought it would be rather rip-
ping to wake up in the morning in such a place. He
looked at his companion.

"May I ask your name?" he began, and then stopped.
Someone had come into the room behind him. A voice
said : —

"Here I am. Uncle Joe," and then broke off sharply
as Barry swung round.

A girl stood in the doorway, a girl in a pink cotton
frock, with loose sleeves rolled up to the elbow; a girl
whose eyes, after the first quick glance, met Barry
Wicklow's with an incredulous amazement and delight
in their greyness; the girl who a week ago, had shared
his box at the theatre.

CHAPTER V

BARRY'S heart gave a big thump, and seemed to
stand still for a moment. For once in his life he
lost his tongue and could only stare.

To meet her here of all places. Surely this was a
piece of real romance. He realised all over again how
very pretty she was. It flashed through his mind that he
would like to see all his women friends in London wear-
ing cotton frocks like the one this girl wore, with the
sleeves rolled up to the elbow, showing soft white arms.

But that was only his man's stupidity. He would have
thought Agnes Dudley out of her mind if she had walked
into her own drawing-room, or anyone else's, in such a
get-up. He did not realise that environment is every-
thing.

The girl recovered her composure more quickly than
he did. She broke into a little laugh.

"How very funny! Mother and I were only talking
about you last night and wondering if we should ever
meet you again."

Barry grinned delightedly. "Were you ? By Jove ! I
say, it is ripping to see you again. What happened to
you after the show ? I looked everywhere."

"I don't know ; we lost you in the crowd. We were so
sorry not to see you again and thank you for your kind-
ness."

The farmer had been standing by looking on stoically.
He broke in now in his rather expressionless voice.

"This gentleman is looking for a room. I told him I
would ask your mother if we could put him up."

He asked no questions. He did not seem particularly
surprised at the mutual recognition.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 33

The girl turned to him at once. "There is plenty of

room. I am sure mother will be pleased if Mr. "

she paused, looking expectantly at Barry.

In the excitement of the moment Barry nearly told her
his real name. He only just stopped in time.

"My name is Ashton," he said.

It was quite true, his name was Barry Ashton Wick-
low, and he had decided on the journey down from town
that, for the present, he would adopt his second name.

"If you could put me up — for a night or two," he said
diffidently.

"I dare say it could be managed," the farmer said
gruffly. "Where is your mother, my dear?"

"She went into the village; she won't be long, though.
Would you like some tea?"

She looked at Barry ; her cheeks were flushed, and her
eyes sparkled; there was no doubt that she was very
pleased to see him again.

Barry said he should love some tea ; he had forgotten
all about the farmer. His eyes followed the girl about
the room as she laid the cloth ; he thought she was just
ripping ; as she passed and repassed the window the light
of the sunset touched her hair and the dainty profile of
her face ; she chatted away to Barry the whole time. She
seemed quite at her ease.

"Mother will be so surprised to see you," she said,
pausing at the door for an instant; she had a green
painted tray under her arm ; she was quite unembarrassed
at having to make tea for him. "What has brought you
down here?" she asked with sudden interest.

Barry blushed; he knew that the farmer was looking
at him.

"Well, to tell you the truth, I really don't know," he
said. "I like the country, and my — someone told me it
was pretty in this part of the world, so I thought I'd
come down and put in a week."

"It's pretty enough," she admitted, rather doubtfully.
"But I should have thought you would find it dull."

34 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

She went away without waiting for a reply, and Barry
heard her singing as she crossed the narrow hall and
went into the kitdien.

"I should have thought you would find it dull, too," the
farmer said ratfier abruptly. He was standing back to the
fireplace ; a big, rather clumsy figure in the low-ceilinged
room. He was looking at Barry rather hard. "We've
had gentlemen like you down here before, but none of
them seem to stay long ; they all find it dull."

It was the longest speech he had made as yet and
Barry fidgeted raAer uncomfortably.

There was a moment's silence. "So you have met my
niece before ?" the farmer said again.

"Yes — 2L week ago — in town at a theatre."

The elder man's steady gaze rather embarrassed Barry.
He got up ; he felt at a better advantage on his feet. He
thrust his hands into his pockets and stared out of the
window. He began to whistle a snatch of song, but gave
it up. He looked again at the farmer rather nervously.

"You've got a nice place here," he said.

"Nice enough," was the uncompromising reply.

The silence fell again and lasted this time till the girl
came back with the tea.

"There isn't any cake," she said looking at Barry with
friendly eyes. "So I've made some toast. It's all ready.
Uncle Joe."

The farmer sat down at the head of the table. There
was a sort of unfriendliness about him, Barry thought;
he was infinitely relieved when at last he went out of
the room.

The girl looked at Barry and smiled. "What do you
think of Uncle Joe?" she asked. "And how did you get
to know him?"

"I met him on the road. I asked him the way to Bed-
mund, and he very kindly gave me a lift."

She nodded. "Yes, he would — ^he's just the dearest
man in the world."

««1

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 35

Barry said, "Oh, is he?" rather blankly; he did not
quite think her description suited the farmer.
'What is his name?" he asked after a moment.
'Daniels — Joseph Daniels — ^he's one of the biggest
farmers round here. He is my mother's brother, you
know ; we came to live with him when my father died."

"I see; and I suppose you were just having a little
jaunt up to town the other night when I met you ?"

"Yes, it was quite an event for us; we hardly ever
go up." She looked rather wistful. "I should so love to
live in London," she said.

"Perhaps you will some day," Barry answered.

He wondered why she blushed and why her eyes fell.

"Yes," she said, "I hope so."

He looked at her admiringly; he was sure now that
she had been in his thoughts ever since that night at the
theatre. He was equally sure that he had never seen
anyone prettier.

She raised her eyes suddenly. "Why are you looking
at me like that ?" she asked him.

Barry leaned a little towards her over the table. "I
was thinking how pretty you are," he said earnestly.

The words did not sound in the least like an empty
compliment, but as if they were absolutely sincere.

For a moment they looked at one another, then her
eyes fell before the steadiness of his.

There was a moment of silence. Barry's heart was
thumping somewhere up in his throat ; he had made love
to lots of women in his life, but somehow he had never
felt as he did now as he looked at the shy, flower-like
face of this girl in her pink cotton frock, with her
bare dimpled arms resting on the shiny mahogany table.

All his life afterwards he remembered that moment,
remembered the long, low-ceilinged room with its latticed
windows open to the sloping garden and fields beyond;
the fading sunset tints and the silence all about them.

Then — ^well, then, just as he was beginning to lose his

36 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

head a little, Mr. Daniels came back into the room, and
the girl rose rather hurriedly from her chair.

Barry roused himself with a sigh. "Let me help you
clear away the tea-things," he said briskly.

She laughed and refused, but he insisted. He packed
the cups up clumsily and followed her into the kitchen
with them, putting them down gingerly on the table there.

They were standing very close together. Barry could
see a little pulse leaping in her soft throat, and again
that curious emotion shook his heart.

Suddenly he caught her hand. "Look at me," he said
urgently.

She raised startled eyes. "Why ?" she began, and then
stopped. Barry fdt that her fingers were trembling a
little in his.

He asked an abrupt question. "Are you glad we have
met again? Tell me."

She did not answer ; she just looked at him with fasci-
nated eyes.

"Because I am," said Barry steadily, after a moment.
"I am more glad than of anything else in all my life.
Some day you will be, too."

He let her go then and turned away. "I'm going to
get the rest of the tea-things," he said prosaically, and
walked out of the room.

He avoided looking at her when he came back with the
rest of the tea things ; they were both relieved when they
heard her mother's voice in the passage — the girl passed
him quickly and went out. Barry heard her say: —

"Mother, you will never guess who is here," and then
he thought it was time to show himself, and he followed.

The girl's mother gave a little cry of amazement when
she saw him.

"Well, I never," she said heartily. "And we have
spoken about you so often, and wondered if we should
ever meet again." She shook hands with Barry as if he
were an old friend. "How did you find us ?" she asked
him.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 37

Barry laughed. "Well, I must admit that it was only
chance," he said; he cast a quick glance at the girl. "As
I told your daughter, Mr. Daniels very kindly gave me a
lift on the road, and — ^here I am."

"And very pleased we are to see you," he was assured.
"I hope you have had some tea. Where are you staying
in Bedmund?"

Barry hesitated. "Well — I — er — don't know; Mr.
Daniels very kindly suggested that you might. . . ."
He stopped, colouring ingeniously.

Mr. Daniels came to the door of the sitting-room. "I
told Mr. Ashton that we sometimes let rooms," he said
in his blunt voice. "But I don't know that we have one
to spare now, have we?"

His sister looked at him with mild amazement. "Why,
of course we have! You know that well enough, Joe.
There's a room over the porch — I'll show you at once,
Mr. Ashton."

Barry followed her up the steep stairs with a little
feeling of triumph; he was sure from the farmer's
manner that he had changed his mind for some reason
or another and did not want him to stay in the house, and
for that very reason he made up his mind that stay he
would, by hook or by crook.

He began to think it would be a long time before
London, saw him again.

When he came downstairs he had booked the room,
and paid a week's rent in advance.

"I'm afraid it's very small," the girl said deprecatingly
when he told her. "You'll have to be careful not to
bump your head when you go in at the door."

"It's just the room I want," he declared. "Just ex-
actly. It's awfully good of your mother to allow me to
have it — I'm sure I'm most awfully grateful; I'll just
take my traps up."

He seized upon the bulging portmanteau and went up
the stairs again two at a time ; the farmer and his sister
looked at one another silently.

38 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WIOKLOW

"It's really very fortunate, isn't it, Joe?" she asked in
a pleased voice. "I didn't think we should let again this
summer."

Daniels frowned. "We shouldn't be letting now, if I
had my way," he said bluntly.

She stared at him. "Why, whatever do you mean?
Only yesterday you said that " He cut her short.

"Yesterday isn't to-day, and I've changed my mind;
no, never mind why ; but I've my reasons."

He took up his hat and went out leaving his sister
looking after him blankly.

Barry came back into the room almost at once; he
looked very cheerful. "I say, this is top hole," he said,
delightedly. "I hope you won't find that I'm an awful
lot of trouble."

She laughed at his enthusiasm. "I am sure we shall
be very pleased to have you, Mr. Ashton. There is an-
other small sitting room, if you would like to have it for
your own use — your meals could be served there."

Barry's face fell. "Oh, I say !" he protested. "Must
I?"

She laughed again. "It's just as you like, of course.
I only suggested it. We shall be very pleased to have
you with us."

Barry looked quickly at the girl. He broke out hesi-
tatingly. "Will you — ^mayn't I know your name? It
seems so absurd, when we're quite like old friends al-
ready, that I do not know what to call you."

The elder woman looked surprised.

"Don't you know ? I thought my brother would have
told you. My name is Bentley — Mrs. Bentley — ^and this
is my daughter, Hazel."

CHAPTER VI

FOR a moment Barry Wicklow stared at the two
women as if he could not believe his senses; then
he flushed crimson, and a look of such utter <Ksmay
crept into his eyes that Hazel took an involuntary step
towards bim.

"Why," she began, "whatever — " then stopped.

Barry dashed into speech. "Thanks, thanks awfully.
I just wanted to know your name. Mine is Ashton. Oh,
I told you; I forgot."

He hardly knew what he was saying. After a moment
he made the excuse that he would go and unpack his
traps. He went up the stairs two at a time and into the
quaint little room over the porch, shutting the door.

He stood for a moment with his back to it, staring
at his reflection in the small mirror on the dressing-table
opposite. He was white enough now; there was a sort
of shamed look in his eyes.

It had never for one moment occurred to him that these
were the people for whom he was looking. What a hash-
up! What a ghastly contretemps! Supposing he had
told them his real name; supposing — oh, supposing he
had said and done a hundred and one things that would
have told them who he really was !

So this was the girl whom Norman meant to marry!
This was the girl about whom he was so keen that he
was even prepared to defy his father.

Well, Barry was not surprised ! He moved away from
the door and sat down on the side of the narrow bed.
What a hash-up !

For the moment he could not think consecutively,
but he was conscious of a very real pang of jealousy.

40 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

Hazel had been his discovery; it was insupportable that
she and Norman should have been friends all the time.
Barry ground his teeth.

He leaned his elbows on his knees and ran his fingers
through his thick hair. Was ever a man in such a dick-
ens of a mess? He cursed his uncle under his breath,
and himself for ever having listened to his monstrous
proposition. He felt that he could never face Hazel or
her mother again.

If it had been any other woman ! He thought of the
moment in the kitchen when he had said that he would
make her glad to have met him again; the surprised,
startled look in her eyes; the way she had flushed and
avoided his gaze. Surely if she had thought anything
of Norman — if she had been engaged to him — ^she would
have been angry with another man for so speaking to her.

Of course, now it was impossible to stay here. He
would have to own up — ^to tell her his real name, or she
would find it out for herself, and then that would mean
good-bye to his chances for ever.

He stopped thinking here and tried to make out what
he meant exactly by that. Of course, he had liked her
the very first time he ever saw her. He had looked at
her a great deal more than he had looked at the stupid
play; but he was honest enough to admit that the fact
that this was the girl about whom Norman had raved
added a hundred-fold to her attraction for him.

Let the best man win. Of course, if she preferred
Norman, well, at any rate, he would play the straight
game and tell her the truth, and then if she chose to
kick him out. . • •

He got up, brushed his ruffled hair and went down-
stairs again.

The house was very quiet now ; but as he hesitated for
a moment in the narrow hall, he heard Hazel's voice
outside in the garden. He went out down the sloping
lawn to join her.

She had been feeding the ducks, she told him. She

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 41

carried an empty basket. She looked at him with a
faint smile.

"I think you'll soon get tired of living down here,"
she said, suddenly. "It's a very monotonous life. We
do the same things day after day — ^get up at the same
time, have meals at the same time, feed the animals,
cook and wash up, and go to bed at the same time. The
only really exciting thing in the week is market day, and
then we all go into Bedmund." She laughed at his in-
terested face. "And Bedmund is so tiny you would
probably be able to walk all round it in a quarter of an
hour."

"We will try, shall we?" he suggested, quickly.

She laughed and shook her head. "It's a very busy
day for me. I help Uncle Joe."

"And do you like living here?"

She hesitated. "I suppose I do," she said at last. "I've
lived here all my life, and nobody has ever been so good
to me as Uncle Joe. When my father died, mother and
I hadn't anything at all, and he just came and fetched us
over here to the farm, and we've been here ever since."
She stifled a little sigh. "But, all the same," she said,
with sudden change of tone, "I should love — just love to
be able to live in London."

"Perhaps you will, when you are married," Barry said,
deliberately. He watched her closely as he spoke, and
saw the sudden flus^ that dyed her cheeks.

"That will not be for a long time, then," she said,

father shortly, as if she did not \^ish the subject pursued.
Barry stood beside her in silence for a moment. "You
have friends in town, of course," he said then!

Again there was the faintest perceptible pause before
she answered him. "I know one or two people there;
yes."

Apparently she was not going to satisfy his curiosity.
Barry frowned. He tried to recall what it was his uncle
had said about this girl, that she was most undesirable!
Yes, that had been one of the many preposterous things.

42 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

He looked down at her with a little flame in his eyes.
The old fool did not know what he was talking about.
Who in the wide world could have been responsible for
such a statement ? He frowned fiercely as he looked out
across the fast-gre3ring landscape.

Hazel was watching him. "How cross you look !" she
said, with a little hint of laughter in her voice. "What-
ever are you thinking about?"

"I was wondering," Barry answered abruptly,
"whether I should tell you something, or whether . . ."
He turned and looked at her. "I think, perhaps, it will
keep," he added, in another tone.

She did not question him, and they turned towards the
house.

"I don't know what you are going to do with yoursdf
here all day," she said presently. "I am quite sure that
you don't really care for long walks, in spite of what
you said to Uncle Joe."

Barry declared that he did; he said that he thought the
country was ripping. "And I shall ask your uncle to
take me round the farm with him," he added.

She laughed at that. 'TJnde Joe would walk you off
your feet in a morning," she declared. "He's so strong —
he never gets tired."

"And don't you think I am strong?" Barry demanded
with pretended effrontery.

She raised her pretty eyes, and dropped them again
quickly. "I'm sure I don't know," she said, rather in-
differently.

They had reached the house again now, and she went
away, leaving him standing in the doorway.

Barry looked after her with a comical sort of dismay
in his eyes ; then he wandered into the sitting-room.

There was nobody there, and he sat down on the arm
of an old-fashioned grandfather chair, and stared mood-
ily at the floor.

He was conscious of a miserable indecision — should he

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 43

go or should he stay? He did not want to stay, and yet
he most assuredly did not want to go.

Norman was safe for the present, at all events; the
sprained ankle would keep him a prisoner for some time.

Barry swung his leg to and fro impatiently, and wished
he had not come.

It had been a fool's errand; he could not understand
now why he had ever consented to it. He got up from
the chair and lounged over to the mantel-shelf; it was
covered with an old-fashioned velvet mantel-board,
worked in silk in gay colours. A great many photographs
stood there is rather ugly frames that looked as if they
might have been bought in Bedmund on a market day.

Barry scrutinized them idly. There was one of Joe
Daniels, taken ten years ago, on horseback; another of
him got up in what was obviously a "best" suit, with a
little girl on his knee.

Barry's interest increased. He leaned a little closer
to the photograph. The little girl was Hazel, he was
sure; the likeness was unmistakable, in spite of short
frocks and a pinafore, and a big bow on her pretty hair.
He picked the photograph up and looked at it rather
eagerly. She had been very pretty then, but not nearly
so pretty as she was now. He put it down hastily; he
thought he had heard someone in the passage outside.

He turned again to the other photographs. What
hideous frocks women wore in those days, he thought.
It was quite a relief to find something modem amongst
the collection, and then he scowled suddenly, for he had
come across a snapshot of his cousin taken somewhere
on the farm with Hazel herself.

It was evidently quite a recent snapshot. Norman was
in flannels and a straw hat, and he was smiling down at
the girl beside him, and looking very pleased.

"Silly ass!" said Barry, under his breath. He felt
angry, without knowing why. Norman was always in

44 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

and out of love with someone. What business had he
got to hang about after this girl?

"Don't you think that is a good snapshot?*' asked
Hazel, at his elbow.

He had not heard her come into the room. He
started to find her so close beside him.

He put the photograph down hurriedly, as if it had
been hot. "Not bad," he said, casually. "Who's the
man? One of the farmers round here?"

"A farmer ! Oh, if he could hear you !" She laughed
merrily. "Oh, no, he isn't a farmer," she said. "He's
just a friend who comes down sometimes from London
to see us."

"Humph!"

"He was to have taken us to the theatre that night
we met you," she went on. "But he wasn't able to man-
age it." Her eyes grew mischievous. "He's got a father
whom I believe he's awfully scared of," she said, con-
fidentially.

"Indeed," said Barry. He was delighted at the turn
the conversation had taken. He looked again at his
cousin's photograph. "He's rather like a chap I used
to know," he said, with elaborate indifference.

"Is he?" — she was interested at once. "His name is
Wicklow," she said. "Norman Wicklow — do you know
him?"

Barry shook his head. Afterwards he blamed himself
because he had not seized upon this opportunity to tell
her the truth; but the moment came and went almost
before he was aware of it. "And does he like rustic
life?" he asked, rather dryly.

"Oh, no !" There was a trace of self-consciousness in
her voice now. "He'll be a very rich man some day," she
said, with a sigh.

"Lucky dog!"

She did not hear the little touch of sarcasm in his
voice.

"I don't think he's had a very happy sort of life, poor

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 45

boy/' she went on. "His people don't seem to understand
him, and he's got such a horrid cousin."

Barry stood quite still.

"A — horrid cousin !" he echoed, blankly.

"Yes — ^they were brought up together, you see, and
Barry — ^that's the cousin — ^is very jealous of Norman,
and is always trying to make trouble. It's too bad, be-
cause Norman's been awfully good to him."

Barry tried to speak, but could find no words ; he felt
as if he were choking.

"I think it's a very ungrateful world," Hazel went on,
innocently, "don't you ? I am sure if I got into debt for
hundreds of pounds, and someone came along and paid
them for me, I could never be grateful enough, could
you?"

Barry swallowed hard.

"And did your friend pay his cousin's debts?" he
asked, rather hoarsely.

She nodded. "He has paid them twice, and he never
gets any thanks ; it's too bad."

"Hazel ! Hazel !" Mrs. Bentley called from the stairs,
and the girl turned quickly.

When she had gone Barry swung round slowly on
his heel, and, raising his clenched fist, shook it at his
cousin's smiling face.

"You paid my debts, did you — ^you young liar?" he
said, under his breath. "All right, my boy! Then I'll
make it my business to see that you're repaid — ^with
interest !"

CHAPTER VII

BARRY WICKLOW let the long trail of blackber-
ries he had been holding down swing upwards with
a sudden jerk, and looked at Hazel with a pucker
between his eyes.

"Do you know," he said, in the voice of one who has
made a sudden interesting discovery, "I don't believe
your uncle likes me?"

Hazel glanced up from the basket of blackberries on
her arm and laughed.

"Whatever makes you think that?" she asked. "Not
like you ! Why, of course he does."

Barry shook his head. "He doesn't. I don't know
why, but I've got a firm sort of conviction in my mind
that he looks upon me with suspicion."

His eyes twinkled. "Perhaps he thinks I've got de-
signs on some of his property," he suggested. "And per-
haps I have," he added, coolly.

Hazel laughed again.

"The copper warming-pan, for instance !" she said. "I
heard you admiring it the other day. It isn't a bit valu-
able, I assure you."

Barry's eyes grew suddenly grave. "Mr. Daniels has
other possessions that are, though," he said.

"Others ?" She looked at him, not understanding.

Barry was looking at her steadily. "Perhaps I should
have said — one other." He amended his words delib-
erately.

It was impossible now to mistake his meaning. Hazel
made a little grimace.

"If you've quite finished paying me compliments," she

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 47

said, trying to speak lightly, "I think we had better go
home. The basket is quite full; if we put any more in
they'll only be spilt."

Barry took the basket from her arm. They walked
a few steps in silence.

"Why will you never be serious with me?" he asked
her suddenly. "I am beginning to think that you are
like Mr. Daniels, and don't altogether trust me," he
added, with a tinge of impatience in his voice.

Barry had been at Cleave Farm four days now, and
already London seemed far away, so far that sometimes
he wondered if it were not really weeks, instead of days,
since that morning when he walked out of his rooms and
started unwillingly on his mission.

Down here, in the country, the time flew. It was no
sooner morning than it was evening; no sooner had the
day begun than it was ended. Barry never once found
himself wondering what in the world to do with himself,
and yet he never did anything at all except wander
about the farm and fields.

Sometimes he went out in the ricketty little trap with
Mr. Daniels ; sometimes he trudged along with him over
hills and ploughed fields; sometimes — as now — Hazel
would take him out with her.

To-day he had invited himself. It was time the black-
berries were picked, he had informed her that morning,
looking in for a moment at the kitchen window; it was
wicked waste to leave them another moment for the vil-
lage boys to gather. Was she coming out with him to
pick them, or had he got to go alone?

Hazel had looked up from her work. She was making
cakes, and her arms were all white with flour, and there
was a big pinafore tied round her slim waist.

"I can't come. I'm busy. Can't you see how busy I
am?"

Barry leaned his arms on the sill. "I'll come in and
help you — I can cook. I used to make ripping toffee
when I was at school."

**rf

48 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

She laughed merrily. *ToflFee! Fm not makiiig toff ee.
These are cakes— cakes for your tea."

"Well, it won't take all the morning, anyway/' he in-
sisted "And it's a topping day."

She looked at his pleading face and shook her head.
I've wasted too much time already since you've been
here. You're always trying to get me out. You can't
always have your own way."

But he got it all the same, and now the basket was
full of the big juicy blackberries, and it was time to
go home.

Barry did not want to go home. He liked being out
here in the woods. He liked the crackle of last year's
dried twigs and bracken under his feet ; he liked to feel
the cool country air, with its first touch of autumn chill
on his face ; he liked pulling down the high branches that
were out of Hazel's reach, and holding them while she
picked the berries from them.

He had thoroughly enjoyed himself this afternoon, but
now there was a look of gloom on his face as he silently
followed her along the narrow path.

"You haven't answered my question," he said presently.

She looked up at him quickly and away. "I don't
know how to answer it, that's why," she saii Her voice
sounded rather bewildered. "I think you just imagine
these things. I'm sure if Uncle Joe doesn't like you
000m

Barry broke in quickly. "You know he doesn't then?"

She made a gesture of impatience. "I don't know any-
thing of the sort. If he is a little gruff and stand-offish,

he was just the same when Norman was here; he *'

she stopped, self-consciously.

'Norman!" Barry echoed.

'Yes, Norman Wicklow. I showed you his photo-
graph, the one on the shelf in the sitting-room, taken
with me."

"Oh — ^that ass !" said Barry, crossly.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 49

She coloured "He isn't an ass, at all, and it's rude
of you to speak like that about my friends."

Barry set his jaw sullenly. "So Mr. Daniels didn't
care for him, either," he said presently. "Was he here
long?"

She raised her chin with a touch of dignity. "He
comes very often ; mother likes him ; he was here a week
ago.

"I don't imagine that he comes to see your mother, all
the same," said Barry, ill-temperedly.

A faint smile crept into her eyes. Barry was conscious
of a little contraction at his heart.

He looked down at her with angry eyes. "I suppose
he will be coming again this week-end?" he submitted
shortly.

She stopped to disengage her dress from a trailing
bramble. "I shouldn't be surprised," she answered
evenly. "He knows we are always glad to see him. Oh,
look ! There is Uncle Joe." She raised her voice, call-
ing to the farmer across the open, stubble-grown space
which they had reached and which divided the wood
from the fields.

Mr. Daniels turned and waited. He looked at Barry
with rather unfriendly eyes.

Hazel slipped a hand through her uncle's arm.

"We've been blackberrying," she said. "Look, aren't
they beauties?"

Mr. Daniels glanced at the basket Barry was carrying
and grunted. "Good enough. This is something new
for you, Mr. Ashton."

"Yes," said Barry. "I haven't done this sort of thing
for years."

"And it's the sort of thing you'll soon tire of, eh?" the
farmer said. "I say it's the sort of thing you'll soon get
tired of," he repeated, as Barry did not answer.

Hazel looked at him quickly. It struck her that there
was a note of underlying meaning in her uncle's voice.
She turned to Barry.

so MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

'^nde Joe means that he thinks youll find it dull
here/' she said

"It's not in the least dull," Bany assured her quickly.

They walked back to the farm almost silently; Barry
followed Hazel into the kitchen and deposited the basket
of blackberries on the table.

Mr. Daniels was out of earshot now. Barry looked at
Hazel. "I told you he didn't like me," he said, suddenly.
Their eyes met; hers looked somehow distressed. "Oh,
I don't think so," she said quickly. "Why shouldn't he
like you?" Barry took a step towards her; his hand
fell to hers as it lay on the table.

"Do you want me to tell you why?" he asked.

She caught her breath. She drew a little from him.

"Oh, no, no!" she said in a whisper.

She tried to move her hand away, but Barry held it
fast. "Hazel !" His voice was not quite steady. "Hazel,
will you answer me something? This fellow — ^this Nor-
man Wicklow — ^is he ... is he anything to you ?"

He was surprised at the earnestness of his own voice
— surprised at the anxiety with which he waited for her
reply. So much seemed to hang on the nect few mo-
ments.

Mr. Daniels called irascibly from the sitting-room.
"Are we going to have tea to-day or to-morrow?"

Hazel dragged her hand free. "Let me go — oh, let
me go."

Barry turned away impatiently; he went back to the
sitting room ; he looked rather pale.

Joseph Daniels glanced up at him from beneath his
dark brows ; the lines of his face were rather forbidding
at that moment.

Barry stood looking out of the window; his rather
lumbering figure looked dejected; when Hazel came in
to lay the tea he turned and sat down straddle-wise
across a chair, his arms on the wooden back, his eyes
following her gloomily as she moved about the room.

She made a pretty picture in her simple cotton frock.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 51

and with her little air of busy preoccupation. She did
not once glance at Barry; he thought that she seemed
deliberately to avoid him.

He got up presently and went out to the front door;
he stood leaning against the framework staring out
across the garden.

He had started on this adventure without the least
seriousness; he had stumbled across Hazel and Cleave
Farm by the merest chance, and yet in four days the
whole affair had grown by leaps and bounds to gigantic
proportions.

He had stayed on at first with a resentful wish to pay
his cousin out for the lies he had told to Hazel ; at the
time that desire had weighed far more heavily with him
than his uncle's promise of reward. But now he was
staying on for himself ; staying on because he knew that
if he went back to London he would not know a minute's
peace; that he would be thinking of Hazel all the time,
and wishing to be with her.

Norman's father had been so confident that he would
be able to cut Norman out; Barry had never been less
confident about an)rthing in all his life. He had failed
with Agnes Dudley ; was it likely, then, that he would be
able to succeed with this girl ? She avoided him for the
rest of the evening; she went off to bed with a casual,
"Grood-night, Mr. Ashton," spoken across the room.

Barry was pretending to read a newspaper; it was a
dull local paper, all about crops and the market, and
the squabbles of the vicar and his churchwardens; but
it served as a screen from Joe Daniels' eagle eye as
Barry watched Hazel cross the narrow passage and go
upstairs.

She carried a candle, and the uncertain yellow light
made a halo round her pretty head as she went on into
the darkness.

There was a sort of uncomfortable silence in the
sitting-room when she had gone; Mrs. Bentley went on
with her sewing, and her brother shut the heavy covers

52 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

of the ledger in which he had been making* entries,
and rose, taking his favourite stand, back to the mantel-
shelf.

Barry put down his paper and tried to make conver-
sation, but it was up-hill work ; the farmer only answered
in monosyllables; Mrs. Bentley was too intent on
the little tucks she was making to pay much attention to
either of the men.

When the clock struck nine Barry rose with a sigh of
relief. "I think I'll turn in," he said, rather lamely.

He waited a moment. "Well, good-night," he said.

The farmer grunted something inaudible. Hazel's
mother looked up and smiled.

"Good-night, Mr. Ashton ; sleep well."

Barry escaped. He went out into the kitchen and
took off his boots. There was a blue pinafore of Hazel's
hanging over a chairback; he stood for a moment look-
ing down at it with rather wistful eyes. Then he
shnigged his shoulders and went out of the kitchen and
up to his room, each stair creaking a little beneath his
weight.

From the open sitting-room door, the farmer watched
him silently. When he was quite sure that he had gone,
he looked at Hazel's mother as she sat in the lamplight,
bending over her work. "Well," he said suddenly, "and
what do you think of Mr. Ashton?"

Mrs. Bentley looked up. "Mr. Ashton! I like him,"
she said decidedly.

The farmer sniffed; an inelegant sniff, but eloquent.

"Oh, you like him, do you ?" he said flatly. "Well, I
don't, and what's more, I'm not going to have him hang-
ing about here any longer. I don't like him, and I don't
trust him. He thinks I'm fool enough to have swal-
lowed that little yam about his coming here for country
walks and country air; but he thinks wrong! I don't
know what brought him here, and I don't care, but I
know it wasn't love of the country, and I know he's not

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW S3

going to stay in my house any longer. The point is> Mary,
will you tell him to go, or shall I ?"

Mrs. Bentley stared at her brother for a moment in
blank amazement.

"Send him away ! Tell him he must go !" she echoed
at last. "Joe ! You must be mad !"

The farmer closed the door with an irritable hand.

"Not so mad, perhaps," he said, in a rather surly
voice. "I never did care for this idea of yours of letting
rooms. It's not as if we want the money. I'm quite well
able to keep you and Hazel without having strangers in
the house. I gave in to you over Mr. Wicklow, but he
was different to this man. I tell you I don't trust him.
Who is he, an3rway, I should like to know?"

Mrs. Bentley flushed with annoyance. "I really
haven't asked him," she said, rather curtly. "It's no
business of ours where he comes from or who he is, as
long as he pays for what he has."

Joe Daniels glared at his sister across the lamplight.

"Can't you see what his little game is ?" he demanded.
"Can't you tell by the way he hangs round Hazel ?"

Mrs. Bentley's face cleared. She laughed.

"Joe! You silly fellow! You're jealous, that's what
it is. I know you can't bear the idea of Hazel marr)dng.
You were just the same when Mr. Wicklow was here.
You said all manner of things about him at first, and then
ended up by liking him."

"He was a different kind of man. Hazel would be
happy with him if he ever asked her to have him, but
with this Mr. Ashton, he's got half-a-dozen girls on his
books, I'll warrant, if the truth is known. You're the
girl's mother; you take my advice and get rid of him;
don't have him here, you'll be sorry if you do, mark my
words."

Mrs. Bentley re-threaded her needle. There was a
little smile in her eyes.

"In some ways, Joe, you're a far-seeing enough man/'

54 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

she said, evenly, "but in others you're surprisingly dense.
If you ask my opinion, I much prefer Mr. Ashton to
Norman Wicklow. One's a man and the other's a
dressed-up boy. Look at the coloured shirts he used to
wear and the fancy socks."

"And so does Ashton."

"I know, but there's a difference," she insisted gently.
The farmer growled.

"That's a woman's way of arguing. However, I'm not
going to say any more. I suppose I'm not master in my
own home now, that's what it means. I suppose I've got
to stand by like a tame cat and see Hazel's heart broken
by a jumped-up whipper-snapper."

Mrs. Bentley raised her eyes. "It was you who brought
him here, Joe," she said.

"Yes, it was; and you who kept him; and you and
Hazel who picked him up at some theatre without know-
ing who he was, or what his name was. I should have
thought, Mary, that you'd been taught better than that
by this time. Your own marriage "

She broke in tremulously. "We don't want to speak
about that. I made a mistake, I know, but it's over and
done with, and Hazel isn't married, or thinking of getting
married."

Daniels scowled. "Ashton reminds me of Jim Bentley,
anyway. He's got that same soft way of looking at a
girl; that same soft tongue. Bah! It makes me sick.
There are plenty of decent lads round Bedmund if she
wants a husband, without hankering after gentlemen in
positions above her own. That young Norman Wicklow
has asked her more than once, I know."

Mrs. Bentley flushed. "Oh, no! She would surely
have told me if he had."

The farmer looked superior. "No girl tells her
mother any more than she thinks she will," he said un-
kindly. His sister's eyes filled with tears; Hazel was
all that was left to her from the wreck of her pitiful

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 55

marriage ; and she could not bear to think that perhaps
she had not got all the girl's confidence.

Joe Daniels kicked off his boots.

"It's bedtime," he said gruffly. He went off upstairs,
but Hazel's mother sat for a long time lost in thought,
the tears dropping fast on the dainty work she was doing.

The tragedy of her own marriage was a thing long
since ended and forgotten, but it was an endless dread
with her that some day her own life's story might find
an echo in her daughter's.

Young as Hazel was, she had already had half the
boys of Bedmund at her heels, and she had turned up her
little nose at them all.

"As if I could marry any of them, mother," she said,

with a fainst disdain. "They're so rough. I don't want

to live on a farm all my life. If ever I marry it must be

a man in a good position — a man who can take me to live

in London."

"She's beginning to talk like they do in London," her
uncle said once, disgustedly. "I don't know where she
gets her fine words and manners from."

Mrs. Bentley knew; knew that the refinement and
charm with which Hazel's father had captured her
twenty years ago had been inherited by his daughter.
He had been a fickle ne'er-do-well; he had made her
more miserable during the three years of their married
life than she had ever believed it possible for a woman
to be ; and yet down to the day of his death she had
loved him and thought him the most attractive man she
had ever met.

Over and over again she could see him in Hazel, some
little trick of speech, some expression in the eyes, and
back would come the old heart-ache.

Her husband had been thrown from a restive horse
he was trying to train, and had broken his back. They
had brought him home to her on an improvised stretcher
and laid him down at her feet in the little parlour where
she had spent so many lonely hours, and there he had

56 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

died. It had been impossible to move him; impossible
to do anything to prolong his life.

She could see it all as plainly as if it had been but
yesterday, though it was seventeen long years ago.

He had looked up at her as he lay there with a little
flash of his old smile.

"Send for the guv'nor; he'll come now," he said
weakly; and he had been right. The old man who had
refused to acknowledge her or his son's marriage, came
a few minutes before that son died.

There had been no time for explanations, or even for
forgiveness. Jim just looked at his father and pointed
to Hazel — a little curly-haired mite of two years then,
hiding shyly behind her mother's skirts.

"Don't be hard on the kid," he said with a touch of
anxiety in his weak voice. "She's all a Bentley, any-
way."

And a moment later he had died; without a word to
his wife, without a look for the girl who had loved him
so devotedly.

Her husband's people had offered to take Hazel, but
the offer had been refused indignantly, and Mary Bentley
had never seen any of them since. It was then that Joe
Daniels stepped into the breach and brought her back
home to Cleave Farm, and she and Hazel had lived
there ever since.

And Hazel was more "all Bentle)r" every day. Lately,
too, she had asked a great many questions about her
father's people.

"I don't know anything about them," her mother told
her. "They never recognised me. I only saw your
grandfather once in my life, and then he did not speak
half-a-dozen words to me."

But she knew that in a quiet way Hazel had tried
to find out something about them. Once she had found
her pouring over some old books of her father's — an
old Bible, with a list of names written on the blank page
in front.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 57

She had looked up at her mother with puzzled eyes.
"If my father was James Bentley," she said, "he must
have had all these brothers and sisters. Where are they
all? They can't all be dead?" Mrs. Bentley turned
away from the eager questioning with a little pang at
her heart.

"I know nothing about them," she said again quietly.
"They did not consider I was good enough for them."

Hazel heard the hurt tone in her mother's voice; she
got up and kissed her impulsively.

"Poor little mother! But then they didn't know
you."

Mrs. Bentley lived through all these little incidents
again as she sat alone in the lamp-lit parlour and thought
over her brother's words. Joe loved Hazel, she knew,
and perhaps for that reason he was prejudiced against
Norman Wicklow and Mr. Ashton, seeing in both of
them possible suitors for his niece.

She rose presently, turned out the lamp and went up-
stairs. She passed Hazel's door, and stood for a mo-
ment outside, but there was no sound from within, and
she went on to her own room.

After all, age and grey hair cannot make a woman's
heart old; and to-night Mary Bentley felt herself to
be once again the girl who had crept out of her father's
house in the early dawn of a spring morning to be mar-
ried to Hazel's father ; and she took his portrait from the
locket she always wore round her neck and kissed it be-
fore she got into bed and cried herself to sleep.

CHAPTER VIII

"rrWERE'S a letter for you, Mr. Ashton," Hazel said
I the following morning, meeting Barry in the door-
way.

It was quite early — only just after seven, but Barry
had developed an astonishing taste for early rising since
he came to Qeave Farm. From his window he had seen
Hazel out in the yard feeding the chickens, and he had
raced through his toilet and come down in time to meet
her at the door.

"A letter — for me !" he echoed blankly. He could not
think who could have written to him ; he had given his
address to nobody except his uncle. It was something
of ' a relief, therefore, to see that it was his uncle's
writing.

"Dear Barry," Mr. Wicklow wrote, "as I have not
heard snything of you I thought I had better write and
ask how you arc progressing. Norman's ankle still keeps
him a prisoner, I am glad to say, but he has written sev-
eral times to a certain lady who shall be nameless, and,
needless to say, the letters have not been posted. I had
a note from Mrs. Dudley this morning asking very ur-
gently for your address. She rang up yesterday when
I was out. What am I to do? Please let me have in-
structions. Wishing you good luck. — Your affectionate
uncle,

"John Wicklow."

Barry frowned "You don't look very pleased," Hazd
ssdd, smiling at his serious face. "Is it bad news?"
Barry tore the letter across and across.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 59

"I hate letters from people," he said irritably. "I
hate answering them. I came away for a holiday; I
don't want to be bothered." His brow cleared and he
smiled. "I shan't answer it anjrway," he said boyishly.

"Is that the way you treat all your correspondents?"
she asked.

"I hate writing letters," Barry said again, evasively.
He wondered what the dickens Agnes wanted his address
for. He had done with her. It seemed ages and ages
since he had danced obedient attendance at her heels.

It was strange how a man could change in a short
time ; his eyes wandered to the girl beside him. For the
first time he saw that she, too, had a letter, which she
was folding and refolding rather nervously in her hands.

"Who has been writing to you?" he asked, abruptly.

She looked up startled, flushing a little. She put her
hands behind her back.

"Nobody very much," she said, quickly. "I get very
few letters, but . . . oh!" she had dropped the
letter.

Barry grabbed for it. He glanced at the writing on
the envelope as he returned it to her. It was Norman's.

For a moment he did not speak. There was a bitter
feeling of jealousy in his heart. So, in spite of his
father, Norman had managed to get one letter through.

"I suppose it's from that — chap in the photograph?"
he said shortly.

She did not answer.

The blood rose to Barry's face. "Is it?" he insisted

She looked up at him. "Really, Mr. Ashton, I can't
see what it's got to do with you." She moved past him
into the house.

He stood where she had left him till breakfast was
ready. He was in no mood for company. Hazel glanced
at his sullen face as he took his seat at the table and a
little smile lit her eyes.

Joe Daniels had had his breakfast earlier and gone
out Barry and the two women were alone.

60 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

They were all rather s3ent. Mrs. Bcntley looked a
little psle, as if she had not slept very well.

'Any letters this morning. Hazel ?" she asked presently.

'Yes, mother, Mr. Ashton had one, and there was one
for me from Mr. Widdow." She glanced at Barry as
she spoke.

Mrs. Bentley looked op. "From Mr. Wicklow — it is
quite a long time since we heard from him. Is there
any news ?"

Barry's spoon tinkled agitatedly against his cup for
a second as he waited for Hazel's reply.

"He says that he has sprained his ankle," she said
evenly, "but that if it is better he hopes to be able to
come down to-morrow — for the week-end."

Barry raised startled eyes from his ^gs and bacon;
his face had flushed crimson.

"0>ming here, for the wedc-end," he stammered.

Hazd looked at him calmly. "So he says — if his
anlde is better."

There was a poignant silence.

"Does Mr. Ashton know Norman?" Mrs. Bentley
asked in faint surprise. Hazel shook her head.

"You know he doesn't, mother."

"I thought it might be possible," the elder woman
answered. She looked at Barry. "Once or twice I have
thought that Mr. Ashton and Mr. Wicklow were some-
how alike, only in expression, of course."

Hazel laughed. "Mother! They're not a bit alike."

But Mrs. Bentley stuck to her point. "It's only an

occasional expression, of course," she admitted. "But

every now and then something in Mr. Ashton's eyes
ft

• • • •

She broke off apologetically.

"I am flattered," said Barry dryly. He had noticed
that Mrs. Bentley had alluded to his cousin as "Norman" ;
they must be on very friendly terms for them to call
him by his Christian name, he thought jealously.

As soon as breakfast was over he went out for a long

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 61

walk by himself. He knew that Hazd came to the door
and looked after him as he strpde away down the garden,
but he did not turn his head. He was smarting with jeal-
ousy. He believed that she had deliberately tried to hurt
him by her frequent reference to his cousin.

He wandered about the lanes and woods all the morn-
ing. He did not go back to lunch. He lay on his back
on a mossy bank under some oak trees and tried to sleep.

Presently he dozed off, his cap pulled well over his
eyes to shade the flickering sunlight that sifted through
the gently moving leaves of the trees overhead.

He woke late in the afternoon to the consciousness
that someone was standing near him. He started up,
half asleep.

A girl was standing beside him on the narrow path
looking at him with a faintly amused smile.

"I'm glad you were only asleep," she said. "I thought,
perhaps, you might be dead. I've been standing here
ever so long waiting for you to wake up."

Barry scrambled to his feet, shaking the bits of moss
and grass from his coat. He stooped for his cap which
had fallen off.

"I'm sorry — I was asleep — is anything the matter?"

She shook her head. She had very golden hair and
she was very smartly d(ressed.

"Oh, no — I only want to know the wav to a place
called the Cleave Farm — I've been wandering about
ever so long looking for it, but I can't find it anywhere.
If you know it "

"I know it very well," Barry said. "I am staying
there; it's about a mile-and-a-half on. If you will al-
low me to show you the way. . . ."

She hesitated, and glanced towards the road which
was some little distance from the wood, winding its way
among the trees like a dusty ribbon.

"Well, I've got the car in the road," she said. "But if
I may give you a lift home I shall be delighted."

Barry said he would be delighted, too; the girl was

62 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

not at all pretty, he decided, but there was something
taking about her, in spite of her undoubted make-up and
rather theatrical style.

He followed her down the narrow footpath, hastily
trying to tidy his ruffled hair as he went. He wondered
who she was, and what she wanted at Qeave Farm.

The car, waiting in the road, was a very handsome
one. The attendant chauffeur was in smart livery. Barry
gave him a few directions : "Keep straight on, and* then
turn to the right ; then I'll tell you again." He followed
the girl into the car.

"It's rather dusty," she said. "But we've come from
London, and it's a longer run than I thought it would be."

"You live in London ?" Barry asked.

"Yes." She looked at him with a little pucker between
her brows. "Have you ever seen me before?" she asked.
"Because somehow I am sure I have seen you, but I
can't remember where."

He shook his head. "No, I don't think so. I think
I should have remembered you if we had ever met be-
fore."

She looked pleased at the inferred compliment. "So
you are staying at Qeave Farm?" she said presently.
"How strange that I should have asked you the way,
isn't it?"

"Very. . . . You know Mrs. Bentley, I suppose?"

She hesitated. "Well, no," she said at last. "I can't
say that I do ; I've never met her, but — ^well, as a matter
of fact, her daughter Hazel and I are first cousins."

Barry stared.

"Her father and my father were brothers," she ex-
plained. "But her father married beneath him, or they
chose to think so, and somehow he drifted away from
his family. I don't live with my people now, you see,
so I do as I like, and I wanted to see them — so I just
took the car and came down — on spec' !" She laughed.

"I've heard a lot about Hazel, and so I thought I
should like to see her for inyself ."

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 63

"You'll like her," said Barry, promptly. "You'll like
her mother, too ; they're charming people."

She turned her head. "You know them well, of
course ?"

"No. At least, as a matter of fact, I'm staying in the
house for a little while. Mrs. Bentley very kindly let
me have a room. I wanted to be in the neighbourhood,
and — and so I was very glad of the chance."

"I see." There was a little silence.

"And so your father and Hazel's father were brothers,"
Barry said presently.

"Yes — they're both dead now, so far as I am concerned
the old feud — ^whatever it was — is buried with them. I
haven't got many relations, so I thought I'd dig Hazel
lip." She hesitated. "I'm on the stage, you know."

"Oh, indeed," said Barry politely. He had guessed
it a long time ago.

I'm not anybody well known," she went on candidly.
But I hope to be some day, with any luck! I'm not
pretty enough to make much of a splash without someone
to push me, you see."

For once in his life Barry did not know what to say,
but he b^an to feel distinctly sorry that this girl was
coming down to claim acquaintance with Hazel. They
were so utterly different. He was sure that Hazel had
never used rouge or a powder puff in her life.

"Is it much farther?" the girl beside him asked pres-
ently. "I'm so tired of country roads and fields. Do you
really like being down here? You: look such a thorough
town man."

Barry laughed. "Do I? I much prefer the country
to town — at any rate, in fine weather."

"And in good company, perhaps," she supplemented.

He coloured. "There is very little company here. We
go to bed with the rooks, and get up before them, some-
times."

"How uninteresting. Oh, is that the farm ?"

"Yes." Barry rose. "Turn to the left here," he called

64 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

to the chauffeur. "And go slowly ; it's a thundering* bad
road."

They turned in at the same gate through which Joe
Daniels had driven him that first afternoon, and the
car jolted and swayed over the uneven ground till they
reached the farm.

Barry got out. He had seen Hazel up at her bed-
room window, and he hoped she was thinking that no
dbubt he had spent the morning and afternoon in the
company of this giri.

He led the way into the house. Mrs. Bentley was in
the kitchen. She called out to him cheerily.

"Where have you been? We were beginning to get
quite anxious about you, Mr. Ashton "

The girl beside Barry looked up at him. "Is your
name Ashton?" she asked.

"Yes," said Barry. She looked faintly disappointed.
"Then I haven't met you before; I don't know anyone
of that name."

Mrs. Bentley came out into the passage.

"Have you had your dinner ? I kept it hot for you till

three o'clock. Oh " she broke off, looking at Barry's

companion.

Barry began some sort of an awkward explanation,
but the g^rl stopped him.

"I can do all that myself, thanks!" she said, with
a little laugh. "Is this Mrs. Bentley?"

Barry nodded, and she went up to Hazel's mother
and took her hand. "You don't know me," she said.
"But I'm your niece. My name is Delia Bentley. Your
husband and my father were brothers."

There was a little pause. Mrs. Bentley had flushed
painfully. She tried to draw her hand away, but Delia
held it fast.

"Now, it's no use being stand-offish with me," she
said, cheerily. "It's not my fault that we haven't met
before. I've heard lots about you and Hazel, and I'm
very pleased to meet you at last. I've driven all the

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 65

way down from London to find you, and I'm just d3ring
for a cup of tea. Can we have one? I've got a car out-
side, and a man. I dare say he's thirsty, too. And where is
Hazel?"

She gave Mrs. Bentley no time to speak. There was
something so unaffected about her that it was impossible
to stand on one's dignity for long.

Mrs. Bentley recovered herself with an eflFoYt. She
said they should have tea in a minute. She called tremu-
lously to Hazel, and retired into the kitchen again.

Delia had thrown off the long, loose coat she wore, and
untied the motor veil from her hat. "Have you got a
cigarette?" she asked.

Barry had. He produced his case. He wondered what
on earth Joe Daniels would say if he came in and found
this girl smoking.

He struck a match and lit the cigarette for her. She
gave two long puffs and leaned badk in her chair with a
little sigh of relief.

She looked at Barry with a twinkle in her eyes. "It's
an unexpected pleasure to find a man like you in this
sleepy hollow," she added. "Hullo!" She rose to her
feet. "I suppose you're Hazel?" she said, in a change
of tone.

Hazel had just come into the room. She was all in
white, and there was an excited flush on her pretty face.
She had heard from her mother who their visitor was.

The two girls shook hands. Delia's cool eyes scanned
her cousin critically.

"Well, you look just the country rose par^," she said,
in her downright fashion. "I wish they could put com-
plexions like yours in a box for us to buy."

Hazel flushed.

Barry felt very tender as he looked at Hazel. She
was so different to every other woman he had ever
known. She looked younger and prettier than ever now
beside the carefully made-up smartness of her cousin.

When Hazel went off to help her mother with the tea.

66 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

Delia looked at Barry and laughed. "Is she the reason
why you like the country?" she asked him, teasingly.
"Goodness, don't blush so," she added. "I admire your
taste. What a hit she'd make in London !"

She blew another cloud of smoke into the air and
chuckled. "Wonder what she thought of me for smok-
ing?" she said. Bary did not answer.

Hazel reappeared with the tea-tray. She looked at
Delia a great deal as she moved about the room. She
was contrasting her own simple home-made clothes with
Delia's, and feeling a little pang of envy.

"Where did you two meet ?" she asked presently.

Delia answered at once. "Mr. Ashton was the sleep-
ing beauty in the wood," she said. "And I woke him —
though not in the story-book way. I asked him where
Qeave Farm was, and he said he was staying there, so
we came along together."

She threw the dead end of her cigarette towards the
fire. "Will you come and stay with me in London,
Hazel?" she asked impulsively. "I'll give you the time
of your life."

Hazel coloured excitedly. "Oh, I should love it — I
adore London."

Barry scowled. "You'd soon get to hate it," he said,
with a sort of savagery.

"You be quiet !" Delia told him sharply. "Leave Hazel
alone. She will love London as I shall show it to her.
Why, I don't suppose she's hardly been to a theatre,
or a night-club."

Barry bit his lip. The thought of Hazel in a night-club
made him feel sick. He changed the conversation as
quickly as he could. Hazel went off to cut bread and
butter.

Delia looked at Barry teasingly. "You don't like the
idea of her coming to town," she said, with a little laugh.
"You want to keep your rose all to yourself — eh?"

Barry tried to curb his rising temper. "It's no busi-

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 67

ness of mine," he said hardly. "Miss Bentley will no
doubt be delighted to accept your invitation."

There was a little silence. Then Delia Bentley rose
and went over to where he stood. She looked tip at
him with a curious expression in her eyes.

"Keep quite still," she said suddenly. "No, don't
move or turn your head — ^I — ^yes, now I know where
I've met you before. You came behind at the theatre
one night. I remember your name, too. You're Barry
Wicklow !"

WiOPcifiY

OF THE '

CHAPTER IX

BARRY had never been so taken aback in his life.
He stared at the girl for a moment with blank
eyes, the colour rising guiltily in his face.
"I — ^I don't remember at all," he stammered at last. "I
— I really think you must be making a mistake."
She shook her head, laughing amusedly.
"Oh no, I'm not. I can't think why I did not recognise
you at first. It came back to me all in a flash as you
were standing there. As a rule I'm awfully good at re-
membering faces, but it wasn't to see me that you came
to the theatre. You were only pointed out to me, and I
remembered your name. It struck me as being rather a

nice one."

Barry did not know what to answer.

"I don't know why you're calling yourself Ashton
down here," she went on. "But you need not look so
scared; I'm not going to give you away "

Barry found his voice then. "No, for Heaven's sake,
don't ! There's a reason. I can't explain, or I would."

She shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, I'm not curious.
And what an awful time they are with that tea."

Hazel came into the room at that moment. She looked
from one to the other with faint apprehension. Barry
wondered if she had heard anything of their conver-
sation. He felt that he should never know any peace
of mind till Delia had rolled away in her smart car. But
apparently Delia was quite comfortable where she was.
She talked and chatted with Mrs. Bentley with great
friendliness.

"I always wanted to know you both," she said, rather
gushingly. "I'm simply delighted to have met you at

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 69

last. You must let Hazel come to stay with me in Lon-
don. I've got a ripping flat ; she'll just love it."

Mrs. Bentley answered rather hurriedly. "Oh, but I
can't spare her."

"I've never had an invitation before," Hazel broke in
quickly. "Of course, I should simply love to come
and stay with you," she said, with enthusiasm, turning
to her cousin.

Barry scowled into his cup. It was very easy to see
which way the wind was blowing, he thought. It made
his blood boil to have to sit by, unable to interfere.

If Hazel went to London with Delia it would spoil
her, he was sure. The two girls were so utterly different.
He was remembering that night at the theatre to which
Delia had referred.

He and a rackety crowd of his friends had gone be-
hind and taken a party of the girls out to supper. He
could not remember having seen Delia amongst them,
but he felt uncomfortable when he remembered that
night. It was one of the episodes in his life of which he
had lately grown to be slightly ashamed.

Delia turned to him. "Do you live in town, Mr. Ash-
ton ? Oh, but of course you do ; you told me so. Well,
you must come and see me, too, will you? I give you
all a standing invitation to come when you like, and take
pot-luck."

Hazel's eyes sparkled. She was fascinated by this
new cousin. She had never seen anyone quite like her
before, and she was really sorry when at last Delia rose
to go.

"My brother will be sorry not to have seen you," Mrs.
Bentley said, rather formally. "This is my brother's
farm, you know. We have lived with him ever since
my husband died."

Delia said, "Oh, how ripping!" rather vaguely. She
was not particularly anxious to meet Joe Daniels. She
kissed Hazel and Mrs. Bentley effusively.

70 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

She gave Barry's hand rather an unnecessary squeeze
when she said "Good-bye."

"Come and see me in London — Barry," she said. She
added the last word in a mischievous whisper.

Barry was red and uncomfortable as he stood and
watched her drive away. She stood up in the car when
it reached the road and waved a last farewell.

He turned then and looked at Hazel. "Well," he said,
"what do you think of your new cousin ?"

Hazel roused herself from the reverie into which she
had fallen. "Oh, I think she's sweet," she said, with en-
thusiasm. "How I should love to have beautiful clothes
like hers!"

"Rot!" said Barry brusquely. He realised that the
monosyllable sounded rude, and hastened to apologise.
"You've nothing to envy in her," he said. "I hope you
won't go to London if she asks you."

Hazel looked at him in surprise. "You hope I shan't !
Oh, but of course I shall. It's what I've been longing
for all my life,"

Barry looked angry. "Your mother won't let you
go," he said.

Hazel laughed with a trace of annoyance. "I think I
know mother better than you do," she told him. "She
will let me go if I wish to — ^and, of course, I wish to."

She was turning away when he stopped her. "Wait a
moment. I want to speak to you."

She hesitated. "I am in a great hurry."

"Not* in too much of a hurry to spare me a mo-
ment, please."

He was very much in earnest now. Hazel stood still.
"Well, what do youftwant to say ?"

Barry asked his question with blunt impulse.

"Is that fdlow Norman Wicklow coming down to-
morrow ?"

She drew herself up a little.

"Oh, I know," he rushed on. "I know you think it's
no business of mine, and that it's cheek to ask;

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 71

but — ^well, if you knew how much it does matter to me.
It just comes to this — if he is coming, I'm going away."

There was a little silence. "Why?" she asked then
quietly.

He blundered on recklessly. "Because I know he's
coming here to see you, and because I'm not going to

stand by and see him following you about, and — ^and "

He stopped. "Are you angry ?" he asked, hopelessly.

She raised her head a little. "Why should I be angry ?
I'm not at all ang^. And if you want to go — ^why, of
course, you must. No, I really can't stay any longer."
And she turned and left him.

CHAPTER X

BARRY knew he had behaved foolishly. As usual, he
had allowed his tongue to run away with him. He
swore under his breath as he stood there looking
towards the gate through which Delia's car had van-
ished a moment since.

Mr. Daniels and the rickety trap were coming through
it now. Barry went forward to meet him. The farmer
was staring down at the big tire marks the car had left
in the wet ruts of the road. "Who's been here?" he
asked gruffly.

Barry answered with a touch of maliciousness: "A
Miss Bentley — Mrs. Bentley's niece, I believe. She came
in a Rolls-Royce. . . ."

The farmer turned blank eyes to him. "In a — what ?"
he asked.

"A Rolls-Royce," said Barry again. "A car — a jolly
fine car, too. She's only been gone a few minutes. You
must have passed them on the road."

A grunt was the only answer. Mr. Daniels left the
trap and went into the house.

Mrs. Bentley met him in the passage. She was a little
flushed still with the excitement of Delia's visit ; she be-
gan to tell her brother breathlessly all about it.

"It was so unexpected. I don't know how she found
us. It was no wish of mine that she came. I've been
slighted so long by the whole family that it would not
have mattered if they had never taken any notice of me.
But she made herself very agreeable, I must say — and
oh, Joe! she wants Hazel to go and stay with her in
London."

The farmer thrust his hands deep into his pockets.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 73

"Oh, she does, does she?" he said. "Well, and what did
you say?"

"I said that Hazel never went away alone. But Hazel
is so anxious to go. . . ."

"Why, of course," Hazel chimed in from behind her
mother. "And, of course, I shall go, shan't I, Uncle
Joe?"

He looked at her from beneath his heavy brows. "Not
with my consent, you won't," he said, curtly, turning on
his heel.

Barry wondered what was going to happen. He stayed
out of the way, expecting a scene; but when he re-
joined them all at supper, apparently nothing had been
said.

Hazel talked about her cousin the whole time. She was
evidently very keen on her visit, and asked Barry a
thousand and one questions about London. She had
evidently forgotten their little tiff earlier in the evening.

Barry looked constrained. He was still wondering
what on earth to do about the week-end, and whether
Norman would be coming down. When supper was
over Mr. Daniels turned to his niece. "Stop a minute.
Hazel; I want to speak to you."

Barry went out of the room. He strolled up and
down die garden in front of the house, far enough away
to be out of earshot. He could guess what the farmer
had to say, and was glad of it, for he was sure now that
Hazel would not be allowed to go to London.

The time went by. Presently he saw the half -closed
front door open again and Hazel ran out into the dusk.
The white frock she wore made her look very slim and
childish as she came towards him. Barry's heart be-
gan to race. "Well," he said, "is the lecture over?"

She did not answer at once. Then suddenly she
turned on him passionately. "I suppose it's your doing.
I suppose you told Uncle Joe not to let me go to Lon-
don. Oh, how dared you interfere !"

Sheer astonishment kept Barry silent. Then he broke

74 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

out, indignantly: "If I never said a word about it I
give you my word of honour I didn't — Hazel !"

She was crying now, like a disappointed child. Her
voice was caught with little sobs as she answered him.

"I want to go so much. I've never been an3rwhere, or
had any fun. I've tried to be contented down here,
but — oh, if you knew how d-duU it is. Nothing but
fields and trees and^ — and the country. It's worse in the
winter than it is now. Oh, I think they might let me
go!

Barry did not answer for a moment. He hated to
hear her crying. "I thought perhaps you'd advised Uncle
Joe not to let me go," she went on, desolately. "I'm
sorry if I was rude."

"That's all right," said Barry, rather huskily.

"I couldn't have come to any harm," she went on. She
was wiping her tears away now. "And it would have
been just lovely to have perhaps a whole week in Lon-
don. If you knew how I've longed for someone to ask
me up there. And, after all, she's my own cousin, and I
like her awfully."

"What reason did Mr. Daniels give for refusing?"
Barry asked presently.

She shook her head. "None, except that as my father's
people had snubbed mother all her life, he wasn't going
to let me know them now. It's absurd to argue like that.
It isn't Delia's fault. She's ever so nice and friendly, isn't
she?"

"Yes," said Barry. He wanted to say something about
it being a wise decision on her uncle's part, but he did
not dare.

"Never mind," he said at last, gently. "You're sure to
have other chances — lots of chances. When you marry

She gave a little pitiful laugh.

"When I marry ! They'll never let me marry the man
I care for. They'll expect me to choose someone down
here— one of the boys who've lived here all their lives,

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 75

and who don't know anything of the world and how
beautiful it is outside this little village. They'll expect
me to settle down on another farm like this one, and stay
here till I get old and grey." She laughed drearily.
"That's what mother and Uncle Joe will expect me to do
when I marry."

Barry's heart was thumping up in his throat His
eyes had never left her face. She looked so pretty stand-
ing there with the little pathetic droop to her mouth, and
her hands tugging, schoolgirl fashion, at her handker-
chief, that he suddienly lost his head. He took her face
in his hands, looking down at her with passion-filled eyes.

"Marry me!" he said, in a whisper. "I love you.
Hazel ! Marry me. . . ."

CHAPTER XI

IT was so silent down there in the dusk. Years after-
wards Hazel could close her eyes and live again those
few moments when she stood with Barry's eyes look-
ing down into hers, and heard his voice through the still
evening.

"Marry me — I love you, Hazel — ^marry me!"

For a moment she seemed to lose all sense of time and
place. There was nothing in all the world any more
but this man's face and his voice.

It was as if at his touch a veil had been torn from her
eyes, showing life to her as it had been since he came
to Cleave Farm, as it would be if he went away again
and left her behind.

Barry saw the sudden light that filled her eyes — saw
the little tremulous smile that curved her lips, and with
sudden impulse he stooped and kissed her.

Neither of them were very clear as to what happened
after that. There were many more kisses and inco-
herent words ; but Barry's arms were round her now, and
her face hidden against his coat. She felt as if some-
one had pushed her off the everyday workaday world into
a little heaven which held only herself and him.

The dusk wrapped them round like a grey veil. It
was so still down there in the garden. Little stars peeped
shyly out at them from the sky. Somewhere across the
fields a sheep-bell tinkled musically, and a sleepy bird
twittered drowsily from its nest.

"Do you love me? Do you love me?" said Barry in a
whisper.

His head was bent to hers; her soft hair touched his
cheek, and she answered him tremblingly : "Oh, I do —
you loiow I do. . . ."

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 17

"And you will marry me? When will you marry me?"
She lifted her head then. He could see the shy confusion
of her face through the grey evening. "Oh, but you're
in such a hurry, . . ." Her eyes fell before his.

"I've loved you ever since that first night— at the
theatre," he told her.

He really believed he had. He was sure that he had
never cared for any woman in all his life as he cared
for this one. He was positive that this was the real
thing at last. He felt most tremendously happy.

He had certainly quite forgotten his uncle and Nor-
man. For the moment, at least, it was nothing but his
own desire that drove him. He had wanted this girl, and
now she was his.

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it — ^kissed the
smooth, soft wrist from which the white sleeve fell
away.

He did not understand how much that first kiss of
his had been answerable for — did not realise that the
charm of his impetuous love-making had taken this little
girl by storm and won something deeper and more last-
ing than just a passing fancy.

But Hazel knew, and she wondered if he guessed that
the touch of his lips had turned the key in the closed
door of her heart. She hid her face again against his
coat.

It was a wonderful thing how entirely her feelings had
changed towards him. She had liked him before — ad-
mired him, too, in an impersonal way, but now . . .
there was nobody like him in all the world, nobody so
big, so strong — so tender!

Barry kissed her hair. He was naturally sentimental,
and he believed that this was Romance with a capital
letter.

The silence of the country made an ideal background.
There was a faint scent of newly-mown hay on the night
air. Barry looked up at the stars and felt himself a
lover indeed.

78 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

"You are not cross with me any more?" he asked
presently.

"I never was cross with you," she told him.

She looked at him adoringly with sweet, shy eyes.

"And you needn't have been jealous — really," she told
him. "I mean— of Norman ! . . . I never cared for
him at all — ^but he cares for me — ^poor Norman !" There
was a little note of regret in her voice, and Barry felt
a pang of remorse.

After all, although he was sincere enough now, he had
come to Cleave Farm with the deliberate intention of
cutting his cousin out. Now he had kissed Hazel and
held her in his arms he began to feel more sympathetic
with Norman. He asked a jealous question:

"He never kissed you. Hazel — did he?"

She hesitated. "I never kissed him," she said at last.

He held her at arm's length. "You mean that he did
kiss you," he said growlingly.

He liked playing the jealous lover. "Did he. Hazel?"
he insisted.

She kept her face downbent. "Well— only once
. . . when he went away ... I knew then — that
I didn't really care at all, that I should hate to have him
kiss me always."

"Really and truly?"

"Really and truly."

He drew her closer to him gain. "But you like me
to kiss you. You don't feel like that with me."

He had to stoop to catch her answer. "I never really
knew that I loved you till you — ^till you kissed me."

Barry promptly kissed her again.

Mrs. Bentley came to the door of the farmhouse. She
called through the dusk. "Hazel — are you there, Hazel ?"

Barry turned her face to his coat to prevent her an-
swering. "I'm not going to let you go in yet," he said
masterfully.

Mrs. Bentley went back to the sitting-room ; they could
see the silhouette of her head against the yellow lamp-

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 79

light, and Joe Daniels, a tall, square figure in the back-
ground.

"You won't mind so much now about London, and
Delia ?" Barry asked presently.

"I shan't mind at all," she told him, happily. It was
such a much more wonderful thing to love and be loved
by this man than to rush through a week of gaiety and
late nights with an almost unknown cousin. To Hazel the
last few minutes had endowed the country with a new
radiance and mystery.

"And — is Wicklow really coming down to-morrow?"
Barry asked presently.

She laughed softly. "No — ^I only said it to tease you.
He said he would liked to have come, but that his ankle
kept him a prisoner." She stifled a little sigh. "Poor
Norman! I wonder what he will say when I tell him
about you?"

Barry, too, wondered what he would say.

"And mother — and Uncle Joe," Hazel went on dream-
ily. "Won't they be surprised!"

Barry said yes, he supposed they would. "Your uncle
will hate the idea of it," he said.

"Poor Uncle Joe.'

'Yes, but he can't keep you here for ever.*

1 know, but I love him.'

•

"Yes, but he can't keep yo" ^'^-"^ ^-^^ '""-''• "
"I know, but I love him."
"And me? Where do I come in?"
"First — ^first of all," she whispered.

Barry's heart thumped. She was adorable — ^he loved
the shy little tremble in her voice, loved her whole-hearted
admission of how much she cared for him.

"Hazel — Hazel — " Mrs. Bentley called again from the
doorway.

Hazel raised her head from Barry's shoulder.

"I must go — ^yes, let me go. . . ."

"Very well — ^you must kiss me again first."

Their lips met for a moment, and then he released her.
"It will seem an eternity till the morning," he told her.

When she had quite gone he turned and leaned his

80 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

arms on the gate, looking out into the darkness with a
smile on his lips.

He felt a little dazed — so much had happened in the
last hour — ^but he was thoroughly happy. He could not
remember ever having felt so happy in all his life before.

"And now I shall have to tell old Daniels, and do tie
straight thing," he told himself. "After all, the3r've been
jolly decent. . . ."

He roused himself with a little sigh and strolled back
to the house.

The farmer was alone in the sitting-room, smoking.
He looked up when Barry entered.

"It's a fine night," said Barry, with an effort to speak
naturally ; but he felt very self-conscious. He passed a
hand over his ruffled hair. "Topping night," he said
again.

"Humph !"

The farmer laid down his pipe and paper.

Barry fidgeted round the room. He wished to good-
ness Mrs. Bentley would come in and relieve the strain.
He never felt at his ease with Mr. Daniels; he had an
uncomfortable conviction that the farmer's keen blue
eyes could see right through him and read his thoughts.

And his thoughts just then were a confused tangle.

The farmer broke the silence. "I've told Hazel she
can't go to London with this — this new cousin of hers,"
he said slowly.

Barry looked up. "Oh — er — indeed !" he said lamely.

"Yes" — the keen blue eyes were looking at Barry now
— ^"I mean to keep my niece in the country," the farmer
went on deliberately.

"I don't mean her to get mixed up with London folk
and London ways. I don't mean her to have her head
turned. . . . I've lived all my life down here at
Bedmund, and if it's b^een good enough for me and her
mother it ought to be good enough for her."

Barry fidgeted with his tie. He had an uncomfortable

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 81

sort of feeling that all this was leading up to somediing
that concerned himself.

"Hazel's a girl that will have to settle down in her
own sphere," Mr. Daniels went on. He had refilled his
short clay pipe and was cramming the tobacco home
with a brown forefinger.

"I never did hold with girls who looked above their
own station. Hazel's mother ruined her life by looking
too high, and I don't mean Hazel to do the same. Do
you follow me, Mr. Ashton?**

Barry said "yes — oh, yes. Of course!" The farmer
grunted.

"There's been more than one gentleman like you hang-
ing round down here," he resumed presently. "And
Hazel's a pretty girl, but I've my own plans for her fu-
ture — my own ideas as to the sort of man she'll choose
for a husband. You understand what I mean ?"

Barry flushed. "Yes, I understand quite wdl what
you mean," he said clearly.

He knew now what was coming. He rose to his feet.

The farmer rose too. His square-built figure threw an
enormous shadow on the low ceiling.

"Well, as long as we understand one another, that's
well," he said slowly. "And that being so — ^perhaps you'll
tell me when you're thinking of going back to London,
Mr. Ashton."

Barry turned scarlet. For a moment he stood staring
at Joe Daniels' relentless face without speaking.

The fact that this sour-faced old man should dislike
him so heartily was a severe blow to his pride.

He drew himself up stiffly. "I shall be returning to
London as soon as possible — in the morning," he said
curtly. "I very much regret ever coming here, and can
only remind you that it was at your own suggestion I
did so."

Mr. Daniels did not move. "There's a train up to Lon-
don at 9,40," he said implacably. "I'll have the trap
ready to drive you down, Mr. Ashton."

82 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

He fumbled in a pocket for his pipe and refilled it
carefully. He did not look in the very least disturbed.
It was quite evident that, as far as he was concerned at
all events, the conversation was finished.

Barry walked to the door. He Hung it open, then
stopped, turned, and came back.

"Out of mere curiosity," he said, "I should like to
know what is your objed:ion to me?"

The farmer finished lighting his pipe before he even
raised his eyes. Then he looked Barry over coolly from
head to foot.

"Well," he said slowly, "in the first place, I don't al-
together trust you, Mr. Ashton, if you must know ; and
in the second place — I've no wish to see my niece's life
ruined as her mother's was twenty years ago. I don't
pretend to be an)rthing but what I am. We're plain
people, but we're none the worse for that, and I'm not
going to have you or any other man filling Hazel's head
with a lot of nonsense. That's all, Mr. Ashton. You
know better than I do if there's any reason for me to
distrust you. Nine- forty that train goes in the morning.
Good-night."

It was a dismissal. Barry walked out of the room
without answering and went upstairs.

For the moment he was too surprised to think. He
shut his door and stood staring round, the little room
with a dazed sort of feeling. He had got to go! He
was clear enough on that point, at all events. His room
was preferable to his company at Qeave Farm. It was
the first time in his life that such a thing had even
been suggested to him.

He dragged his portmanteau from imder the bed and
took some shirts out of a drawer. He had got to catch
the 9.40 in the morning and sneak back ignominiously
to town.

He never slept a wink all night and was up with the
lark in the morning and downstairs. The farmer had

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 83

already breakfasted and gone out, Mrs. Bentley told him.
She looked at Barry with anxious eyes.

"My brother tells me you are leaving us this morning,"
she said. "I am so sorry. If you hadn't been comfortable

Barry cut in roughly: "Thank you — I've been most
comfortable — most comfortable; and as to my leaving
you — Mr. Daniels asked me to go — ^told me to go, in
fact, I should say." He smiled grimly.

"I'm sure I don't know what I've done to make him
dislike me," he said, wryly. "But he does dislike me,
very heartily."

She looked distressed. "I had no idea. I am so sorry
— but Joe is a strange man. He gets an idea into his head
and it's utterly impossible to move him. I can only assure
you, Mr. Ashton, that it's no wish of mine — I mean "

She broke off as Hazel came down the stairs. The girl
looked at Barry, and a little additional colour tinged
her cheeks.

"Good morning, everybody," she said. She stopped
on the last stair and opened a letter she held. "It's from
Delia, mother. She's written already to ask me to go and
stay with her. I didn't think she would remember, some-
how. Isn't it kind of her?"

Barry did not answer; Mrs. Bentley looked unhappy.
"My dear child, you know what your uncle said "

Hazel struck in impatiently; "Uncle is too silly for
anything. I'm not a child, and — ^and . . ." She
broke off; her eyes had fallen on Barr/s bulging port-
manteau standing in the hall. She turned to him
quickly. "Where are you going?" she asked sharply.

Barry shrugged his shoulders. "I've been asked to
leave," he said hardly. "Your uncle prefers my room
to my company."

There was a moment's silence. Hazel was crimson
with anger. "Mother — ^how insufferable! Why wasn't
I told ? Oh whatever will uncle do next ? Oh ! I won't
stand it!"

84 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

Mrs. Bentley began to cry. "It's his house, my dear.
He has kept us all these years. It's for him to say who
shall be here."

"I think it's disgraceful !" Hazel said stormily. "If he
thinks I am going to be ordered about all my life like
this ..."

She broke down into tears and ran back up the stairs.

Barry followed two at a time. He caught her as
she reached the little landing. He put an arm round
her. She was sobbing bitterly now.

"Don't cry, my dear," he said in distress. "There's
nothing to cry for; it will be all right. I'm not going
for ever. I shall write to you, and come back and fetch
you. It's only for a little while."

She turned to him, hiding her eyes against his coat.

"I don't want you to go. It will be hateful here with-
out you, and I was so happy."

Barry was at his wits'-end to know what to do. He
hated to see Hazel crying, but for the moment the situ-
ation seemed impossible.

He went on talking rapidly. He would make arrange-
ments and come back to fetch her. They could get mar-
ried, and everything would be all right. She was a silly
little girl to cry — there was nothing to cry for. He kissed
her and tried to comfort her.

"I don't want you to leave me," she sobbed. "I know
you'll never come back— ^ — " She had utterly lost her
self-possession. She clung to him and cried piteously.
"You'll forget me. when you get to London; I know you
will "

"I shan't — ^upon my honour I shan't!" he declared,
indignantly. "If you think that, I'll go downstairs this
minute and tell them that we're going to be married.
Shall I do that?"

He did not wait for her to answer. He started to-
wards the stairs, but she stopped him.

"No — ^no — ^it would only make things worse. I'll
wait. I \ron't cry any more. Only " she raised

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 85

swimming eyes to his face. "You won't forget me?
Promise you won't forget me?"

Barry answered passionately that he never should, of
course he never should. He kissed her again and
again.

"I'll write to you — ^and we'll be married soon, and then
they can't say anything. You do love me, Hazel ?"

"You know I do!" she answered, quiveringly.

He did know it. It gave him a little thrill of triumph
to know it, and yet above her bowed head, his eyes looked
somehow worried.

What the dickens was he to do? he was asking him-
self. He hadn't any money worth talking about, and if
he married Hazel off-hand and took her up to town to
his rooms it would be the very deuce ! The only thing
for it was a compromise, for the present at least.

"I'll write," he promised again. "I'll write to you as
soon as I get to London. There — ^kiss me."

He kissed her hurriedly. Such a woe-begone little face
she raised to him, and he heard her sobbing as he went
off down the stairs two at a time.

Mrs. Bentley met him in the hall.

"Mr. Ashton, you must have some breakfast before
you go."

"No, thanks," Barry answered grimly. He picked up
his bag and held his hand to her.

"Good-bye — I'm sorry. It's not my fault all this has
happened. Thank you very much for your kindness."

The farmer came to the sitting-room door.

"The trap won't be here yet for half-an-hour," he said
rather uneasily.

Barry looked at him with furious eyes.

"Damn the trap !" he said. "I'm going to walk."

CHAPTER XII

BARRY fell asleep in the train. He slept till he
reached London. That surprised him — ^he had felt
so genuinely worried and wretched) he had not ex-
pected to get any sleep for a week at least.

London was looking its best. Autumn sunshine filled
the streets.

As he drove across Piccadilly he noticed that the
women on the island were selling big shaggy chrysan-
themums.

Barry had never noticed those sort of details before
he went to Qeave Farm. After all, ripping though the
country was without doubt, London was also one of the
finest places in the world. He let down the window of
the taxi and! sniffed the air appreciatively.

He was not expected in his rooms. His arrival threw
the housekeeper into a panic. There was nothing in the
place to eat, she told him. If only he had sent a wire !

"I don't want anything to eat," Barry told her. *Tm
dining out. Are there any letters for me?"

There were a whole stack of them. Barry glanced
through them casually, and finally selected two. He
opened the first f rowningly.

It was from Hulbert and asked in polite, but unmis-
takable terms for a cheque: —

"You promised this some time ago. I must ask you
to forward it now without delay."

Barry said "Damn." He tossed the letter down and
opened the other, which was addressed in Agnes Dud-
ley's writing. He read the first line and changed colour
a little.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 87

"You dear, impulsive firebrand," she had written, "why
must you take me so seriously ? I didn't mean it, Barry.
I was only just seeing if you really cared for me. You
don't know what I've suffered since you went away and
vanished so mysteriously. I have tried to find you by
every means in my power and failed. I am now sending
this to your rooms in the hope that someone may really
know where you are and forward it. Come and see me,
Barry; the answer to a question you asked me long ago
has been waiting for you ever since you went away. —
Yours as ever, Agnes."

Barry groped backwards for a chair and dropped
heavily into it. He could not believe that he had read
aright. He stared down at the letter with incredulous
eyes.

So she wasn't engaged to Hulbert, after all! It had
all been a joke — ^at least, he supposed it was what she
would call a joke; a pretty joke, when one looked at it
in the light of the events of the past ten days.

Barry ran his fingers through his hair. A pretty mess
he was in now! What the dickens was he to do?

The housekeeper came again to the door.

"Mrs. Dudley has rung up every day since you went
away, sir," she said deprecatingly. "I promised to let
her know as soon as you came back."

Barry turned sharply. "Oh, all right."

The door shut again. Barry mixed himself a stiff
whisky. As yet he could not analyse his feelings, though
it was a great relief to know that, after all, he had not
really been jilted.

One blow to his pride was soothed at all events. He
felt considerably bucked.

He glanced at himself in the glass above the mantel-
shelf. He supposed he would have to go round and
sec her. It was the only possible way to put things
straight; and then he thought suddenly of Hazel, and
whistled softly ! Things had got complicated with a ven-
geance.

88 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

He sat down again and tried to sort himself out, but
somehow Hazel and the farm already seemed to have
retreated to an unconscionable distance.

Barry was the kind of man who lived always in the
present. Down at Bedmund he had been happy and sat-
isfied — ^he had not missed London one little bit — ^but
now he was back there again neither did he greatly miss
Bedmund or Cleave Farm,

He thought of Hazel a great deal as later he changed
into evening clothes. He wondered what she was doing
now. He glanced at his watch. Six o'clock. Perhaps
she would be getting supper ready!

He smiled a little. It seemed impossible that at this
time yesterday he had been quite content to sit on the
kitchen table and watch her make cakes and pastry —
quite satisfied with the plain "high tea" which was gen-
erally the evening meal at the farm. It only showed, so
he told himself, what an accommodating fdlow he was,
to be able to shake down in any surroundings.

He wondered if Agnes would be very surprised if he
walked in that evening. It was only when he actually
found himself at her house that he realised he had acted
foolishly in coming; he hated a scene, and he supposed he
would have to go flirough one either way, whether he told
her about Hazel or not. It was something of a relief,
therefore, to hear that she was out, and not expected in
till nine.

He left his card and went oflF cheerfully to dine at his
dub. He enjoyed his meal thoroughly. After all, Lon-
don was hard to beat. When he had finished he dozed
in an armchair till nine, then he sent for a taxi and
drove again to Mrs. Dudle/s.

Yes, she was in now. The maid smiled discreetly as
she took his hat and coat. She knew a great deal about
her mistress and she had seen the sudden flash of joy
in Mrs. Dudley's eyes when she heard that Barry had
called.

Barry followed her soberly across flie hall. His heart

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 89

was beating uncomfortably fast, but not exactly with
pleasure. He wished he could forget Hazel for a mo-
ment, but, try as he would, she was always in his mind.
He felt as if she were walking across the hall beside him
and into Agnes' scented drawing-room.

Mrs. Dudley rose from the sofa as he entered. There
was strong agitation in her face as she came to meet him.
She held out her hand, and Barry saw how it shook.

"Well, wanderer!" she said with a nervous laugh, "I
thought you'd walked away for ever."

He took the hand she held to him. He wondered if
she expected him to kiss her. Before he went away he
had kissed her quite often and naturally, but now things
seemed to have changed a great deal.

He kept her hand in his and sat down beside her.
"I've been in the country," he said awkwardly. "I only
got back this afternoon and found your letter."

She looked at him reproachfully. "Why didn't you
write? Barry, I've been so unhappy!"

He had never heard so much emotion in her voice be-
fore. It would have made him ineffably happy once, but
now it merely embarrassed him.

"I hate writing letters," he said boyishly ; "and — ^and it
was miles away from anjrwhere — ^where I stayed. . . .
There was nothing to write about."

She flushed. "Nothing to write about! Not to me?
Oh, Barry!"

He did not answer, and she drew her hand away.

Barry stared down at the carpet. He had seen it hun-
dreds of times before, but to-night for the first time he
noticed that there were pink rosebuds in it. He kept his
eyes fixed on them. He felt as if he could never look
up again.

He knew now how great a mistake it had been to come ;
he cursed his folly under his breath.

With an effort he raised his eyes.

"Well, what have you been doing all this time?" he
asked stiltedly.

90 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

She rose to her feet. She walked away from him and
stood with her hand resting on the mantelshelf, looking
down at the fern-filled grate. Her eyes were mortified.

Barry bit his lip. He knew he was hurting her hor-
ribly; and yet, he asked himself desperately, what the
dickens else was he to do ?

Once he had thought he loved her. It was strange that
he thought so no longer. Of course, he should always
be fond of her — as a friend, but never as anything else
. . . He dragged himself to his feet, went over to
where she stood and tried to make her look up, but she
resisted him.

"Why have you come?" she asked in a muffled voice.
"Oh, Barry, aren't you just a little bit glad to see me?"

Barry clenched his teeth. He did not know what to
answer. It seemed impossible that it was really Agnes
who was speaking to him with that pain in her voice. He
had always thought her such a cold, self-controlled
woman.

He broke out agitatedly.

"You make me feel such a cad . . . Agnes — I
. • . " He took a few steps away from her and came
back. "Why did you write that infernal letter?" he
asked, with a sort of rage. "It's your fault all this has
happened. Until then I never gave another thought to
any woman but you. . . ."

He stopped witii a gasp. He had done it now.

She looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes.

"Barry!" There was a cry of very real anguish in
her voice ; she began to sob.

"I've said I'm sorry — ^you must believe me. I never
knew how much I cared for you till you went away and
left me without a word. I know I ought not to have
written that letter; but you'd been so cold — and I wanted
to be sure — sure. . . ."

She broke off. She tried to see his face,

"Barry, why don't you answer?"

He freed himsdf with a sort of desperation.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 91

"Because I don't know what to say to you/' he said
hoarsely. "Because I — oh, dash it all!"

But his agitation had told her what all his eloquence
could not put into words, and for a moment there was a
dreadful silence in the pretty room, then Mrs. Dudley
said faintly,

"You mean — ^you mean that you no longer care for
me?"

He broke out at once. "I do — I do. I shall always
care for you. We've been such pals."

"But — ^but you mean that there is someone else —
someone you like better — than me. . . ." He did not
answer. "Oh — Barry !" she said with sudden anguish.

He tried to explain, to excuse himself. "You sent me
away. I was so wild — so unhappy. I didn't care what
became of me. I just rushed off to amuse myself with
anyone — ^anything that came along; and . . . and

• • •

She laughed drearily. "And you found that it wasn't
— amusement, after all. Is that it ?"

Barry was crimson. When he came into this room a
few moments since there had been no definite plan in
his mind. He had had no more idea than the dead what
he meant to say to this woman. It was surprising how
all at once he had decided.

It was not Agnes for whom he cared at all. As soon
as they came face to face again he had realised the
truth — that it was Hazel who had kept him from kissing
her — Hazel who seemed to be there in the dainty room
where he had idled away so much of his time, watching
him, keeping him back.

, "I'm sorry," he stammered again. "I'm — I'm desper-
ately sorry."

He went on again. "I ought not to have come. It
would have been much better if I hadn't come . . .
I hope you'll try to forgive me — I — I can't tell you how
sorry I am. I'd rather cut off my right hand if it would
do any good. • . •"

92 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

He looked at her now, at her white, painstricken face,
and he took an involuntary step towards her.

But she waved him away. "Leave me alone — leave
me alone. . . . Go away— oh, go away! I never
want to see you again."

She dropped into a chair, hiding her face in her hands,
rocking to and fro.

Barry looked at her in an agony of indecision.

He knew that he could do no good now, whatever he
said. He turned blindly to the door. He had never felt
so mean in all his life. He slunk out of the house and
walked away down the road at a tremendous rate.

And yet, in spite of any other emotion, he was glad he
had told her; glad that he was free. He drew a deep
breath.

All day long he had deliberately tried to forget Hazel.
Now he deliberately conjured thoughts of her as he
walked through the dark streets.

They would be married soon — ^he would take her
away from the farm and the surly old farmer. He would
bring her to London, and even if they hadn't much
money, he was sure that they would be very happy. He
loved her and she loved him. The thought of the way
she had cried and clung to him lay warm against his
heart. As if he could ever have forgotten her!

He went straight back home and sat down to write
to her. He put a new nib in the pen in honour of the
occasion. This was going to be a very different sort of
letter to those he had occasionally written to Agnes
Dudley. This was to be a real love-letter.

He squared his shoulders and began to write.

"My own darling. . . ."

He sat back and looked at the words with a little glow
of pride. She was his own darling — ^he had never cared
for anyone else in all his life. With a touch of un-
wonted sentimentality Barry stooped and kissed the
words before he wrote any further.

Afterwards, reading the finished letter through, he

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 93

could not believe that he had really written it, and what
was more wonderful still that he really meant everything
he had written.

His spirits went up like rockets. He felt absurdly
happy. He went to bed early and slept dreamlessly.

When he woke the sun was shining. Barry whistled
all the time he was dressing. He ate an enormous break-
fast.

It was just as he was finishing that the idea came to
him. What was the good of waiting for a reply to his
letter? What was the good of waiting to get married?
Why not get married at once?

He dashed off in a hansom. Before midday he was back
again at Bedmund. It seemed an unconscionable time
since he left it. He looked round delightedly as he
walked the miles to Qeave Farm.

As he neared the house Mrs. Bentley came to the door.
When she saw him she gave a little cry of relief.

"Oh, Mr. Ashton, where is she? Where is she?*'

Barry stared. His heart seemed to leap to his throat.

"I don't understand ! Whom do you mean — Hazel ?'

She burst into hysterical tears.

"She went away late last night Her room Wasn't
been slept in. Oh, Mr. Ashton, I thought perhaps
you'd know where she was! We've made all the
enquiries we can, and Joe's found out that she went up
to London on the late train last night. . . ." She
looked at him with piteous eyes.

"Oh, I was sure she'd gone to you," she said again.
"After what she told me "

Barry swallowed hard. He was very white.

"No," he said. "No — I give you my word of honour
I haven't seen her, and that I don't know where she
is. . . ." He looked away from her grief-stricken
face, remembering with a pang that Hazel did not even
know his London address or his real name.

After a moment he broke out incoherently. "Some-
thing must have happened after I left to have driven

94 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

her away like this. She promised me '* He stopped,

not knowing how much Hazel had told them.

"Something did happen," Mrs. Bentley sobbed. "We
had a most dreadful scene. I have never heard my
brother speak to Hazel as he did last night. I know he's
a hasty-tempered man, but there was no excuse for what
he said; none at all.

"She answered him back ! Poor child. I should have
done just the same. She has all her father's impulsive-
ness. She said that she would never forgave him for
what he had said. . . ."

"What had he said?" Barry asked impatiently.

She wiped her eyes. "I don't think he meant half of
it," she temporised. "When a man is thoroughly roused
he hardly knows what he does say; but — ^he told Hazel
that she was dissatisfied with her life here and ungrate-
ful for all he had done, and. . . ."

"And Mr. Daniels — where is he ?" Barry interrupted.

"Poor man! He's worried to death. He's been out
ever since we missed Hazel ... oh what shall I do
if anything has happened to her ?"

"Nothing has happened," said Barry quickly. He was
feeling pretty bad himself; he dragged out his watch —
"What time is there a train to London?" He did not
wait for an answer, but went on hurriedly. "Look here,
Mrs. Bentley, you're not keeping anything from me, are
you? I mean . . . there isn't anything I ought to
be told?"

Mrs. Bentley coloured distressfully; her eyes met his
with a pathetic pleading.

"Only that — when her uncle was so angry," she fal-
tered, "Hazel said she should go to you; that you cared
for her, that ... oh, Mr. Ashton, she's all I've got
in the world."

Barry flushed up to his eyes.

"If it's any comfort to you to know it," he said, "I
came down to-day to ask her to marry me . . . but —

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 95

but you can't be right about her having* gone to me; she
doesn't know my address. ..."

"Or my real name," he added to himself with a little
feeling of despair.

The thought goaded him ; supposing after all she had
somehow discovered his address, and had gone to him?
What might she not find out before he could get to her,
and tell her himself.

He went back to London on the next train and straight
to his rooms; the housekeeper nearly fainted when she
saw him.

"Oh, sir! if only you wouldn't come so sudden like!
and you said you wouldn't be home till to-morrow."

"I know; I changed my mind. Don't look so scared,
my good woman; tell me, has anyone been here? a yotmg
lady — a pretty young lady?"

"No sir, nobody — and I've never left the place for a
moment."

Barry began to cool down; if Hazel had not been
here, there could be no serious damage done yet; she
had probably gone to her cousin's after all; he started
off in hot haste on this new trail, but he had only gone
a few yards when a girl turned the comer of the street
and came towards him.

She looked very tired and rather countrified — that was
Barry's first thought — and she was lugging a dressing-
case that looked far too heavy for her. He noticed all
these things in an impersonal way before he saw the
girl's face, and knew tlpit already his search was at an
end and that this was Hazel herself.

She stood quite still when she saw him, letting the
bag fall to the pavement with a little thud. Barry had a
horrible feeling that she was going to cry. He reached
her side in a couple of strides. He caught her hand in
a hard grip.

"It's all right — don't cry. You're quite safe with me.
Oh, for Heaven's sake, don't cry !"

96 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

She winked her tears away.

"I ran away," she said brokenly. "I had an awful
row with Uncle Joe — so I've come straight to you."
She looked up at him anxiously. "You're not going
to send me away?" she asked.

"Good Lord, no I" Barry caught up the bag. He hailed
a passing taxi and followed her into it.

"Look here," he said. "We'd better go to your cousin's
— ^to Miss Bentley's — I'll explain as we go along." He
directed the driver, and sat down beside Hazel with a
long sigh of relief.

"I went down to Bedmund this morning," he said. "I
haven't been back half-an-hour. Your mother told me
what had happened. She seemed frightfully upset. We
shall have to send her a wire to say you're safe." He
looked at Hazel, and the colour deepened in his face.

"Well, aren't you going to kiss me and say you're glad
to see me?" he asked with a sudden change of tone.

She let him take her into his arms readily enough. She
leaned her head against his shoulder witii a contented
sigh.

"You're not angry with me?" she whispered. "You
don't think I ought not to have come to you ?"

He kissed her for reply. "But I can't think how you
knew where I lived," he added, a trifle anxiously.

She laughed. "There was part of an old label on
your suit-case. I tore it off one morning." She blushed
in confusion beneath his eyes. "That was a long time
ago, though, before — ^before " She stopped.

"Before I ever kissed you," Barry supplemented auda-
ciously.

He kissed her again. He felt in his pocket for the
special licence. "Do you know what that is ?"

She glanced at it and shook her head.

"It's a special licence," Barry explained. "By which
you and I may get married at any time of the day or
night an3rwhere in England. I took it down to Bedmund

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 97

this morning, and had to bring it back again. Well, what
do you say?"

She was looking at him with wide eyes. "Married 1
You and I !"

"Yes, please," said Barry.

"Oh !" she hid her face suddenly shy.

"We're going to be ever so happy," he urged. "I
haven't got much money, but if you really care about
me

Apparently there was no doubt about that. Barry's
susceptible heart beat fast as he drew her hands down
and saw the look in her eyes. "But — smother and Uncle
Joe " she faltered.

"I've told your mother," Barry answered. "And she
didn't mind at all. As a matter of fact, I think she was
quite pleased; and as for your uncle, well, he doesn't
count."

'He'll be furious," Hazel declared.
'Let him ! "WTio cares ! Miserable old blighter. . , .
After all, once we're safely married, he can't say any-
thing "

"N — ^no," she agreed, doubtfully. "But — ^but you
will send that wire, won't you? Mother will be so
anxious."

"Of course." Barry thrust his head out of the cab
window and told the man to drive to the nearest post-
office ; he got out and flashed off a wire to Mrs. Bendey.

"Hazel safe — ^bringing her home to-morrow."

"But you're not, are you?" she asked him with anx-
iety, when he showed her the message. "I don't want
to go home !"

"You won't — till we're safely married," he assured her.
"Then we'll just run down and let them see you are all
right, and then . . ."

"And then?" she echoed softly.

Barry climbed back into the cab and kissed her rap-
turously.

98 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

"And now I suppose we'd better find your cousin," he
said more soberly. "If you can stay there to-night. Hazel;
I can make all the arrangements, and to-morrow we'll
trot along and be married."

She nodded "Supposing Delia isn't at home, though ?

But Delia was at home. She expressed herself de-
lighted to see them, though she looked rather mystified

Barry explained. "We're going to be married to-
morrow. I thought if you'd put Hazel up for the night

«1

'Married !" said Delia with a shriek.

She stared at Hazel. "You sly thing," she said,
with a trace of vexation. "You never told me a word
when I was down at the farm."

"We didn't know ourselves," Hazel answered She
looked at Barry, a wonderfully happy Barry who hardly
took his eyes off her. For once in his life her clothes
did not seem of great importance. After all, one can al-
ways buy others.

Delia took Hazel to her room. Barry could hear them
talking — ^hear the little staccato shrieks Delia gave from
time to time as he waited in the diminutive sitting-room.

He was glad Hazel had only got to be here one night.
The whole place offended him, though it was pretty in
a gaudy sort of way. The chairs all had gold legs and
the sofa was heaped with golden-coloured satin cushions.

The whole place smelt strongly of scent, too, and he
noticed that there was a stand of liqueurs on a side table
and a glass that had evidently been recently used.

He was glad when the girls came back. He noticed
that Hazel was rather flushed, and that she came over
to where he stood at once, as if somehow for protec-
tion.

"I think you'd both better come out to dinner with
me to-night and go to a theatre afterwards," he said.
"Can you manage that. Miss Bentley?"

Delia said she was tired of theatres. "You too turtle

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 99

doves had better go alone," she said. "I'll give Hazel the
latch key. I shall be late myself to-night."

"Hazel can't very well come back alone," Barry said,
with a sort of dissatisfaction.

Delia laughed. "How absurd ! Of course, she can. If
she's going to live with you for tlje rest of her life she'll
have to get used to late hours and things like that. . . .
What about some tea ?" She skipped off, and they heard
her calling shrilly to a maid.

Hazel looked at Barry, "I should — should like to buy
some clothes if — if I'm going to be married to-morrow,
she said shyly. "These are so— so very plain. . .

She was adorable, he thought. He kissed her before
he answered: "I don't mind what you wear — ^but we'll
trot along to the shops now if you like."

"I should love it ; and — ^and. . . ."

"Well?"

"Are you sure that you really, really want me to marry
you — sure that you . . . you won't be sorry? I'm
so different to women like — ^well, like Delia. . . ."

"Thank Heaven !" Barry interjected fervently.

"And all the other women you must have known before
you met me," she insisted.

Barry took her face between his hands. "You're the
only woman I want for my wife," he said. "The only
woman I've ever loved."

And the most surprising part of it all was that, at the
moment, at least, Barry really believed it himself, but
then all men believe their first love to be their last, and
their last the first.

3846101

CHAPTER XIII

HAZEL bought her frocks and furbelows surpris-
ingly quidcly. Barry had trotted round at the
heels of more than one woman on shopping expe-
ditions, but he had never known anyone decide so quickly
what she really wanted.

She ordered all the parcels to be sent to Delia's flat.
"And now I'm going to take you to get a meal," Barry
said, as they left the last shop.

He chose a quiet restaurant and selected a table in an
alcoved window. He ordered an extravagant dinner and
champagne.

"I'ver-never had champagne in my life," Hazel said.
"I don't think I want any."

"You'll love it," Barry assured her.

She was the most delightful girl he had ever met, he
kept telling himself. He had never believed that he could
ever care half so much for any woman. He leaned
forward suddenly across the table.

"Hazel — I've got to get a wedding ring."

She flushed rosily. "Oh! supposing you had for-
gotten."

"There are millions of them in the London shops,"
he answered.

She laughed. "Do you know," she said presently,
"that you have never told me what your Christian name
is."

There was a little pause. Barry coloured.

"Haven't I ?" he said helplessly. "By Jove ! . . ."
He wondered what on earth he had better say. Some-
how he could not meet her eyes. Then all of a rush he
made up his mind. He would tell her the truth.

lOO

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 101

She would have to know sooner or later. She would
have to know to-morrow when they were married. He
would have to sign his full name in the register.

He changed his seat and came to sit beside her. "I
want to tell you something," he said quietly.

She looked faintly alarmed. "Is anything the matter?
You look so grave "

"No, of course not. It's only . . . Hazel, will
you be very angry with me if I ask you a question ?

She shook her head. "Angry! Why should I be?

He hesitated. "It's about Norman Wicklow," he said
at last.

She sat up with sudden attention. "Yes — what about
him?"

"He wanted to marry you. Hazel, didn't he ?"

She raised her eyes. "Yes, but why do you ask?"
There was a touch of anxiety in her voice. "Did you —
did you ever know him?" she asked with sudden quick
suspicion.

Barry met her gaze steadily. "I was brought up with
him," he said. "I have lived with him all my life. He
is my cousin."

There was a little silence. Down at the far end of
the room the orchestra started to play with startling
suddenness. Hazel sat very still. Her eyes fixed in-
credulously on Barry's perturbed face.

"Your cousin!" she said blankly. "I don't under-
stand,"

Barry swallowed hard. He realized that a great deal
hung on the next few minutes, but he went on manfully.

"My name is Barry Ashton Wicklow. . . . I'm
the cousin Norman spoke to you about — ^but it's an in-
fernal lie that he ever paid my debts. He's never given
mc a penny-piece in his life; he's too darned mean."

Hazel dragged her hand free of his. For the mo-
ment she was too dazed to realise what this was he was
telling her.

102 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

Barry Wicklow! Norman's cousin! . . . She
passed a hand across her eyes. After a moment :

"Then why — ^why — " she stammered. "Oh, I don't
understand! How did you come to Bedmund? Why
didn't you tell us your proper name ?"

Barry's heart seemed to stop beating; in a flash he
realised what he had done. How was it possible to give
any explanation without relating the whole story of the
agreement with Norman's father? What in the world
could he say ?

There was a little tremble in Hazel's voice now. She
went on piteously:

"That night at the theatre — did you know? Did Nor-
man send you then ?"

Unconsciously she had offered him a loophole of es-
cape. Barry seized upon it with desperation.

"No, I didn't — ^not then; only afterwards Norman
told me about you — and. . . ." He floundered help-
lessly, only to rush on recklessly.

"Your mother mentioned — at the theatre that night —
that you came from Bedmund . . . I — I wanted to
see you again. You must have known that I did. I was
frightfully disappointed when I missed you after the
show. I thought about you for ages ... At last
I made up my mind to go to Bedmund and chance my
luck. . . ."

He told his lie badly, sincere about it as he was, and
now only conscious of a great desire to make her be-
lieve him.

"Meeting your uncle was pure luck. I had no more
idea than the dead that he was your uncle." He forced
himself to look at her. "That's all," he said. "It sounds
feeble, I know, but — Hazel, you're not going to be angry
with me?"

She was very pale.

"You've taken my breath away. I can't understand
properly. If it was — ^was that you wanted to see us

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 103

again, why did you say your name was Ashton? You
might have told us the truth — then."

"How could I, when I knew that Norman wanted
you?"

"Did you know that?" she asked quickly.

"Of course, I did. He raved about you till it made me
sick. Of course, I knew."

A little smile crept into her eyes. "Poor Norman !"

Barry frowned. "Don't say that. He doesn't care for
you as I do. I was furious when I saw his photograph
in your house — taken with you, too." His voice was full
of disgust. She answered quickly :

"You need not have been. I didn't care for him ; only
— ^he was good to me. Poor Norman !"

Barry growled.

"And it hasn't made any difference?" he asked, anx-
iously.

She shook her head. "Of course, it hasn't. It's only
— rather — ^bewildering to find that you're . . .
Barry!" She laughed softly. "I had quite begun to
hate Barry '*

"That was Norman! He told you a pack of con-
founded lies about me "

"I didn't really believe them. Now I know it's you,
how could I?"

"Darling. . . ." said Barry eagerly.
Soup, sir," said the waiter stoically at his elbow.

. Barry swore.
I'm glad you know the truth, anyway," he said later.
You'd have been told to-morrow, of course, but I'm
glad it's been to-day instead. . . . Hazel, do you
diink you'll like being Mrs. Barry Wicklow ?"

She flushed and made a little grimace. "I liked the
name Ashton, too."

"My mother's name was Ashton," he explained. "You
know I'm not rich like Norman's people? I wish I was
— for your sake. If my father had managed to get bom
before Norman's father things would have been very

€€

104 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

different. Not that it's any use grumbling. Uncle John
has always been jolly good to me."

"So he ought to be," Hazel said warmly. She
squeezed his hand under cover of the cloth. "I dare say
he often wishes you were his son," she said fondly.

Barry laughed ruefully. "He says Fm the biggest hand-
ful he's ever had to tackle in his life," he admitted. "I
was always the bad boy at school, and Norman the good
one. I never had a decent report in my life, and I should
think I had more whackings than any other boy in
the school."

She laughed merrily. "I should love to have known
you then."

He assumed a paternal air. "My child! You must
have been in your cradle when I was learning Euclid."

"Oh, not so bad as that," she protested.

They had a very merry dinner; Barry drank most of
the champagne. Hazel declared she didn't like it.

They had a taxi back to Delia's flat. "You haven't lost
the key, I hope," Barry said with sudden propriety; he
took it from her hand and opened the door; the scented
atmosphere of the small flat made him frown.

"I don't like leaving you here. I'm glad it's only
for one night. ..."

"I shall be quite happy," she answered him.

Barry came into the passage and half closed the
door. "I'm not going without a kiss, anyway."

He put his arms round her and held her fast for a mo-
ment. "Good-night, darling . . . just till to-

morrow."

He kissed her many times. "And I shall come to-
morrow very early."

"As early as you like."

He tore himself reluctantly away.

He walked down the road with his hat in his hand and
his eyes on the stars, as he made a mental resolution to
turn over a new leaf and be a model husband from this
time forth and for evermore.

CHAPTER XIV

HAZEL and Barry Wicklow were married quite
early the following morning; absurdly early, so
Delia declared pettishly as she struggled to niake
her toilet in time to accompany them to church.

The new frock had arrived and the hat with the osprey,
and Hazel was twisting and turning before the long
glass in Delia's room like a delighted child.

She was looking her freshest and prettiest, though she
had not slept a wink all night. Delia had come in about
two in the morning, cross and with a headache. She had
turned on the light and sat on Hazel's bed, talking and
smoking cigarettes till it was nearly morning.

Hazel thought she was a most extraordinary girl.

Barry called for them, and they all drove to the church
together in a taxi. Barry was wonderfully smart in a
morning coat and a silk hat and a white flower in his
coat. He was bubbling over with excitement and talking
nineteen to the dozen.

But Hazel had sobered a little. She was realising that
this was really her wedding day. She wished her mother
had been there. More than once the tears were very
near her eyes.

The church was dark and full of echoes. As they
walked up the aisle their footsteps sounded like a crowd
trooping into the church.

It was a strange sort of wedding, Hazel thought. Just
themselves and die verger, a man with a cold face and
tms}rmpathetic manner.

The parson seemed in a desperate hurry. He rattled
through the service, and took off his surplice as they
followed him to the vestry. Here everything was cold

105

106 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

and silent, too. The scratch, scratch of the quill pen
with which he filled in the register got on Hazel's nerves.

She looked down at her wedding-ring and tried to
realise what it meant. She looked at Barry and tried to
believe that he was really her husband. She wished she
had been married at Bedmund. There was such a dear
little church there, with sheltering trees and flowers where
butterflies flew about, and bees droned in the sunshine.
Tears smarted to her eyes and she brushed them
angrily jiway.

Barry was speaking to her. "Will you sign your
name, dear?

She obeyed mechanically. She wrote her maiden name
for the last time with unsteady fingers — "Hazel Bentley."
. . . . It was no longer her name. She was Mrs.
Barry Wicklow.

The parson blotted the signature and shook her by the
hand. He said he hoped she would be very happy. He
shook hands with Barry and left them for the verger
to show out.

Barry had kept the taxicab waiting. "I think we had
better have some lunch," he said.

He had seen the signs of strain in Hazel's face. He
wished Delia would go away and leave them alone. Per-
haps Delia guessed, or perhaps she had found the whole
ceremony depressing, too, for she declared she had an
appointment and wasn't going to stay to spoil the sport.
She kissed Hazel and would have kissed Barry,, too, with
very little encouragement.

She stood on the path outside the church as they drove
away. As soon as they had gone she took another taxi-
cab and went back to the flat and had a brandy cocktail.

She had never felt so depressed in her life. Her idea
of a wedding was a crowded church and lots of flowers
and music. . . .

Barry put his arm round Hazel as soon as they were
alone. He was quite happy himself, and he did not like
to see the tears in her eyes. He said that as soon as they

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 107

had had some lunch he was going to take her down to
see her mother; he lifted the hand with its new wedding-
ring.

"We're going to show her this," he said softly.

Hazel smiled. "I wish mother could have been there,"
she said. "It was so lonely, somehow . . ." She
tried to smother the words. She told him she was really
very happy to be his wife.

"Are we going to the same restaurant we went to last
night?" she asked him. Barry said "No." He said he
was goin?j to take her where there would be more people
to appreciate her wonderful blue gown and the hat with
the osprey. He followed her proudly down the crowded
room. He wondered if they looked very newly-married.
He quite hoped they did.

An attentive waiter, scenting romance, gave them a
table with white flowers in its centre. He danced round
Barry the whole time smilingly.

"He knows we've just been married, I believe," Hazel
whispered.

Barry pretended to be angry. "Like his cheek. I
. . ." He broke off, his face flushing crimson. A
startled look filled his eyes.

A man was coming down the room towards them — 2l
man who glanced casually from side to side as if in
search of someone. It was Norman Wicklow.

Barry rose to his feet. For a moment he did not
know what to do.

The restaurant was crowded. He wondered what on
earth would happen if his cousin made a scene. He
looked at Hazel with stricken eyes. He had been a fool
to bring her here. He knew that it was a place which
Norman frequented. He had counted too surely on that
sprained ankle and his uncle's authority.

Norman still limped a little, and used a stick. He
looked rather pale and fagged.

Barry held his breath. Every moment seemed like a
hundred years. Then suddenly Norman spotted an ac-

108 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

quaintance at some other table. He turned and went
across the room.

Hazel was watching her husband wonderingly. "What-
ever is the matter? Have you seen a ghost?" she asked
anxiously.

He forced a laugh. He sat down again. He moved
his chair beside Hazel's so that his back was to Norman.
After all, Norman might not see him.

The waiter brought lunch, but Barry could not eat.
His whole being was concentrated on the other side of
the room. Once he was sure he heard his cousin's laugh.
He dared not turn round for fear of being seen. He
sat in silent torment.

Luckily Hazel was too interested in her surrounding^
to be very critical. She thought everything was wonder-
ful. She had never seen so many beautifully dressed
women.

It seemed to Barry that that luncheon was dragged
out to years instead of minutes. His forehead was damp
with perspiration. He gave a tremendous sigh of relief
when at last it was ended.

He had not once looked round yet, but as they left
the room together he raised his eyes in desperation to
the table to which Norman had gone; then he could
have laughed aloud for pure joy, for Norman was there
no longer. He felt ten years younger as he followed
Hazel out, and waited for a taxi.

It was a busy time of day. People were coming in
and out. Hazel watched them all interestedly. Once or
twice Barry raised his hat to an acquaintance. "Who
was it?" she whispered.

"The last one," he told her, "was Mrs. Baring. She's
an old scandalmonger. She saw you at the theatre with
me that night. Hazel."

Hazel flushed a little. "Oh, did she ?" She was won-
dering if she had looked very dowdy and countrified.

The taxicab was at the kerb now. Barry touched her
arm.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 109

"Come, dear."

The commissionaire held the door open. Hazel had
already stepped in, and Barry was just following when
someone shouted to him from the porch of the restau-
rant:

"Barry, hullo ! Barry !"

Afterwards Barry never knew what made him turn
his head. He was sure that he did not mean to. He
was sure that he exerted every nerve in his body to keep
himself from looking back; but, all the same, he did look
back, and the man calling to him was Norman.

He came up as quickly as his lameness would allow.
He looked at Barry injuredly.

"Are you trying to run away from me? I saw you
as you were leaving the room and tried to catch you.
Where the deuce have you been hiding all this time ?"

"I've been down in the country. I only came back
to town a couple of days ago." Barry was standing
with his back to the taxi, trying to block the window with
his broad shoulders.

Norman frowned as he looked at him. "Well, you
might give me a lift," he said. "This confounded ankle
of mine doesn't seem to get any better. It's rotten hav-
ing to limp about. Which way are you going ?"

Barry bit his lip. "I can't give you a lift. I'm sorry,
but well, I'm not alone," he explained jerkily.

Norman grinned. "Oh, I see. Well " He glanced

curiously towards the window of the cab, and at the same
moment Hazel leaned forward to see whom Barry was
talking to.

There was a second of mutual astonishment. Then
Norman thrust Barry unceremoniously out of the way.
"Hazel!" he said eagerly.

For the moment the strangeness of the meeting did not
occur to him. For the moment Barry was forgotten as
he held Hazel's hand and looked into her face with eager
eyes. "You! of all people! Whatever are you doing
here — and — and with Barry?"

no MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

He turned round sharply and stared at his cousin.
"What does it mean ?" he asked sharply.

Barry spoke quickly. "I'll explain later. I'll meet
you where you like — anywhere — ^but I can't talk here.
We're in a hurry. Hazel. . . ." Norman wrenched
himself free. His face was ugly with suspicion.

He looked at Barry — at his smart coat and the white
flower in his buttonhole, and a dull red slowly suffused
his face.

"What is there to explain ?" he asked thickly. "What
the devil are you driving at. . . . !" He turned to the
girl again. There was something infinitely pathetic in the
expression of his eyes.

"How did you meet Barry ? You didn't know him last
time I saw you. It's preposterous ! What is he to you ?"

But he knew even before she spoke. Perhaps the look
in her eyes told him before even his own fell on the un-
gloved hand in her lap with its new wedding-ring. He
fell back with a stifled cry, white to the lips.

It was a tragic moment ; Barry dared not look at his
wife. He had never felt so sick and ashamed in all
his life, for he knew now that Norman really had cared
for this girl.

The commissionaire had moved a few steps away, but
was watching them interestedly. Barry spoke hoarsely.

"We must be getting along, Norman. Pull yourself
together, man. ..." He stopped. Norman had made
a furious lunge at him, missing him almost by a hair's
breadth.

"You cad! You cad!" he gasped between his white
lips.

"Barry !" Hazel cried out to him in terror.

Barry spoke sharply to the driver. He gave him the
address of his rooms, and in another moment he and
Hazel were being driven rapidly away.

CHAPTER XV

THEY had gone some way in silence before Barry
dared to look at his wife; his eyes were hot and
ashamed as he broke out —

"It was rotten luck ! I'd have done anything to avoid
him."

"Why?" she asked. "It isn't anything to do with him
that we are married. And he guessed, didn't he? I
could see by his face that he guessed."

Barry nodded. "I'm afraid he did " He felt

horribly mortified.

"It was rather like running away from him," he said
after a moment; "but he'd have made the deuce of a
scene if we'd stayed."

She was looking at him with puzzled eyes.

"You mean he's angry because he didn't know that
you and I were friends," she said, painfully.

"Friends !" Barry echoed, with scorn. He put an arm
round her. "Have you forgotten so soon that you are
my wife, madam ?"

But she did not yield to him. "I don't like to-day,
Barry," she said, tremulously. "It hasn't really been a
nice day. That church was so cold and unfriendly, and
now — ^meeting Norman . . ."

"Nonsense ; Norman would had to have known sooner
or later. It's just as well he does know." He frowned
at the distress in her face. "Hazel, are you trying to
make me jealous of him?"

She shook her head. "You know I'm not, but — some-
how. . . ." Her lips quivered, and for a moment
she did not go on. "Where are we going?" she asked.

zzx

112 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

He answered rather sulkily. "I thought you wanted
to go home — to see your mother."

He was surprised at the tone of her voice as she said
that she thought she would rather not go to-day — that
there would be plenty of time later on.

"I would rather stay in London. Can't we ?"

"Of course we can ! We shall have to go to an hotel.
My rooms won't do for you. They're just a bachelor's
rooms."

She smiled faintly. "But I should like to see them,"
she insisted. "I know so little about you. I should like
to see where you live."

He gave fresh directions to the driver. The taxi
turned about.

Hazel was very quiet. Though Barry's arm was round
her she sat stiffly erect, her hands clasped in her lap, her
eyes fixed out of the window.

Barry leaned down to look at her. "It has made a
difference to you," he said jealously. "You're not a bit
the same."

She relented at once. "I am; oh, I am; but — some-
how . . . Barry — do you know what it feels like to
have a shiver down your spine — someone walking over
your grave? That's how I feel, as if something horrid
is going to happen . . ."

"Nonsense! What can happen? Mr. Daniels will
probably swear a great deal when we see him ; but that
won't hurt us. He can't take you away from me, can
he?"

"No " She laid her cheek to his shoulder. "Are

you glad we're married ?" she asked softly.

Barry's careless face sobered. "I've never been so glad
about anything," he said, earnestly.

"You said that the first night you came to the farm,"
she told him. "Do you remember? You said you'd make
me glad, too — ^to have met you again."

"And I have, haven't I ?"

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 113

*'Ever so, ever so glad."

"And they married and lived happily ever after,"
Barry quoted sentimentally. He drew his arm away as
the taxi stopped. "These are my historic rooms," he said
Kghtly.

Hazel followed him up the stairs looking about her
with interest. So this was where Barry lived! She
thought it all delightful. When Barry had opened the
door with his latchkey he drew her in and kissed her.

"I never thought I should have you here all to myself,"
he said rapturously. "It's not a bit the kind of place I
should like to bring you to, but "

"I shall love it," she told him, "because it's yours."

She had quite forgotten her depression. She looked
round her with delighted eyes. She was very much in
love with her husband. Since that morning he seemed
to have grown so very much more wonderful. She felt
herself of small significance beside him.

Barry looked at her self-consciously.

-Well, this is where I live," he said. "Do you like it?"

"I think it's lovely. I . . ." She broke off. Her
eyes had fallen on a large photograph that stood in con-
spicuous isolation on Barry's desk. The photograph was
of a woman in evening dress.

There was some writing scrawled across a comer of
it. She was quite close enough to read the words, and
they stared up at her defiantly:

"Dear Barry Boy, — ^with love, from Agnes."

Barry turned suddenly struck by her silence and saw
what had attracted her attention.

He flushed and took a quick step forward.

"What are you looking at? That old photograph!
That's nothing. Dozens of people send me photographs."

Hazel raised her eyes after a moment. "But you
haven't got dozens of them framed and standing on your
desk," she said quietly.

Barry shrugged his shoulders. "I know; but she was

114 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

rather a friend of mine — at least, I mean — dash it all, a
man must have something to stand on his desk," he added
lamely.

Hazel did not answer.

"Why, you're not jealous, are you?" he asked, more
lightly than he felt. "You've no need to be. I'll bum
the blessed photograph." He made an impetuous move-
ment to do so, but Hazel stopped him.

"Don't do that. It's a pretty photograph. Who is
she?"

Barry frowned. "She's a Mrs. Dudley — Agnes Dud-
ley. She's a widow," he added after a moment.

"I see !" Hazel was looking again at the pictured face,
and there was a little jealous pain in her heart.

"Why does she call you 'Barry boy' ?" she asked.

Barry walked a step away.

"She doesn't. At least, she used to," he began in
stumbling explanation. "It doesn't mean anything. It's
just a habit some people have of calling one ridiculous
names like that. Don't let's waste time arguing about it.
I dare say Norman called you much more endearing
names than that," he added with a sort of suUenness.

A ghost of a smile lit Hazel's eyes. "Very well, we
won't talk about it any more. I won't be jealous if you
won't," she promised.

Barry's face cleared. He had been in rather a tight
corner then, he knew. It had been foolish not to have
moved that photograph ; but then he had not known that
Hazel would be coming to his rooms. He bent and
kissed her.

"We'll let the past take care of itself, shall we?" he
said. "After all, we've got all the future. . . ."

He congratulated himself that everything had passed
off well.

He lit a fresh cigarette, and asked Hazel if she would
like some tea.

"The old girl here can soon get you some. She's a
good sort, but looks rather a griffin."

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 115

He crossed the room and rang the bell. He thought
he would like to see Hazel pouring out tea in his rooms.
He put her gently into his big armchair and sat down
on the arm of it.

"I never thought I should have you here — all to my-
self," he said. "Hazel, can you realise that we are
really married?"

She laughed and blushed. "Yes, I think so." She
glanced down at her left hand. Barry seized it and
raised it to his lips.

"If all our lives — " he began; then broke off, rising
to his feet with a smothered exclamation as a step
sounded outside on the landing. "Oh, come in," he said
exasperatedly.

He thought it was the housekeeper in reply to his
ring; and so for a moment he could only stare blankly
as Norman Wicklow opened the door and walked into the
room.

There was absolute silence. Hazel did not move,
though there was a faint alarm in her face. Norman
looked so white and his eyes so fierce, as he shut the door
behind him with a slam and came forward.

"So you are here, then," he said. He spoke very
quietly. He threw his hat and gloves down on the table.
He moved towards Hazel, but Barry stepped between
them.

"If you've got anything to say, say it to me," he said.
"I suppose you've come here to make a scene. Very
well, you may as well know the truth to start with then.
Hazel and I were married this morning."

Norman did not answer. He stood with clenched
hands, the breath tearing through his nostrils, his eyes
fixed on Hazel.

Suddenly he broke out wildly :

"It's not true — Hazel . . . For God's sake . . .
tell me it's not true. ..."

She flushed crimson. She put Barry gently on one
side and went over to his cousin.

116 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

"But it is true/' she said gently. "I am sorry, Nor-
man, but — ^but well, I — I love him, and if you. . . ."

"Love him! Love him!" he broke in passionately.
"You don't know what you're talking about. Perhaps
he's told you that he loves you. Perhaps he's even made
you believe that he does. But I tell you he hasn't got
it in him to love anyone. He was engaged to half-a-
dozen different women before he met you."

He looked round the room with wild eyes. He saw the
portrait of Agnes Dudley. He caught it up with a sort
of frenzy and dashed it down at her feet, shattering the
glass to pieces.

"He was engaged to that woman not a month ago!"
he said, passionately. "Let him deny it if he can ! He
cares no more for you than he did for her. It was her
money he was after — to pay his debts because my father
had refused to pay them for him. And now — ^with you.

He thrust his head forward, staring down at her terri-
fied face. "Do you know why he's married you, you
little fool?" he said, violently. "He's married you be-
cause he was paid to — ^paid to ! Do you hear?"

Barry broke in agitatedly. "Norman ! for God's sake !
It's not her fault. She doesn't know ... I beg
of you ..."

"Doesn't know! Of course, she doesn't know!
You took good care of that," his cousin raved at him.
"I give you credit for being smart enough to keep
that hidden from her till it was all sealed and settled
anyway! . . . Doesn't know! Why, of course she
doesn't!"

He was looking at Hazel again, and his fierce voice
had unconsciously softened. It was impossible not to
be sorry for her.

Barry broke in agitatedly. "Don't listen to him, dear,"
he said hoarsely. "It's all a pack of lies. He doesn't
know what he is saying. Hazel, if you love me . .

She ignored him, she spoke to Norman.

>»

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 117

"Please, will you tell me what )rou mean?" she asked
dully. He laughed harshly.

"Yes, I'll tell you. Oh, it's no use you trying to shut
me up," he added with fresh fury, rounding on Barry.
"I'm not going to tell lies to save your face, though
you've told a good few to ruin my happiness. I'm not
such a fool as you think I am. I know the truth, and
Hazel shall know it, too."

Barry shrugged his shoulders. He was very white,
but he knew how useless it would be to try and inter-
fere. He dropped into a chair and rested his arms on
the back with a nonchalance he was far enough from
feeling.

He did not dare to look at Hazel. He did not dare to
think what this would mean. And Norman went on reck-
lessly.

"Barry's in debt. He's always in debt — I told you
about him before." He spoke to Hazel. He took no no-
tice of Barry's sneering interjection. "He asked my
father to settle up for him, and the Guv'nor refused.
That's months ago. Then he got engaged to Mrs. Dud-
ley. She's rich. He thought she'd be fool enough to
pay up for him. I dare say she found him out. They
all do in time. An)rway she threw him over. He went
to my father again . * ."

Norman's face was working now passionately, and
Barry looked at him with a sort of contempt. He won-
dered if he had always really despised him, or if his feel-
ings had changed only during the past few weeks.

He rose to his feet and walked over to the window,
standing there looking out with hard eyes.

He heard Norman go on. "It was just about the
time that I told the Guv'nor about you. He was mad
with me ... He hated the idea of my marrying any-
one except a wife he'd chosen. He knew I meant to have
you — ^and he told me he'd move Heaven and earth to
prevent it . . ."

He stopped for a moment, choking, then struggled on

118 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

again. "He spoke to Barry about it. He asked him to
interfere — to use his influence with me so that I should
break it off with you . . . Oh, hold your lying
tongue !" he flared out as Barry tried to speak. " YouVe
had your say. You've lied yourself black in the face by
this time, I've no doubt. It will be a change for Hazel
to hear the truth."

He was shaking in every limb. He mopped his face
with his handkerchief. Hazel had not moved. She
looked as if she had been turned to stone. Her hands
were clasped to hide their trembling. "Go on — go on,"
she said weakly.

Norman moistened his dry lips. "Well — ^well," he
said incoherently, "the Guv'nor told Barry if he would
fix it, he'd pay his debts and give him a handsome pres-
ent as well. Barry was at the end of his tether — driven
into a comer. He jumped at it. He went off, down to
Bedmund. He called himself by another name. He got
to know you, and then — ^then , . ." He broke off.
He turned away. "He's ruined my life, that's all I
know," he added hoarsely.

There was a tragic silence. Barry was still staring out
of the window. He wondered what had happened to t
the world all at once.

He could almost hear the agitated beating of his heart
as he waited in an agony for Hazel to speak — for some-
one to speak — for anyone to break the nightmare spell
that seemed to be holding him bound hand and foot.

He could not realise that this was an actual scene in
which he was playing a part. He could not believe that
liis uncle had ever been base enough to give him away
so utterly.

The seconds ticked away unbearably slowly. At last
Barry swung round in desperation.

He looked at Hazel, and for a moment his stoic com-
posure deserted him. She looked so forlorn, so utterly
crushed. Something like a sob caught his throat.

"Hazel," he said, huskily. She looked up at him. She

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 119

raised her eyes slowly as if it required an actual physical
effort. The ghost of a smile touched her lips for a mo-
ment and died away again.

"Well," she said, in a whisper. "Well— is it true? I'll
believe you, Barry — 111 believe you against him — ^what-
ever you say."

Barry tried to deny it. He felt that he was exerting
all his strength to say "No" — ^but somehow as he looked
at her he knew he could not. He shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh, it's true enough," he said, recklessly. "What's
the good of denying it ? It's true."

CHAPTER XVI

THERE was a moment of profound silence, then
Hazel said : "Oh, Barry !"

There was a world of unutterable anguish and
reproach in her voice. She waved him back when he
would have gone to her.

He broke out passionately: "You're not fair. You're
condemning me unheard. If you like to believe Norman
I can't help it, but you ought to let me explain — I can
explain . . . You don't understand."

"But you don't deny it. You say it's all true," she
answered wildly. Suddenly she broke down and began
to sob broken-heartedly.

Norman rose from his chair. He would have laid
his hand on Hazel's shoulder, but the look of fury in
his cousin's face checked him. For a moment the two
men glared at one another, then Barry said savagely:
"Get out of this. You've done what you wanted to.
Now clear !"

Norman laughed. He picked up his hat and gloves
and walked out of the room.

Barry had gone back to the window, he looked out into
the street with eyes that saw nothing. He was only
conscious of his wife's pitiful sobbing.

It seemed such a lonely, desolate sound somehow.
Presently it stopped. He heard the little movement of a
chair being pushed back, and he held his breath.

Was she coming over to him ? Was she going to for-
give him and tell him it was all right? His heart-beats
nearly choked him.

Each second seemed an eternity. Once he was almost
sure she was there at his elbow. He swung round, but

1 20

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 121

she was not there at all. She was over by the table,
dragging on her gloves, the tears still wet on her white
face.

"Hazel," said Barry beseechingly. He crossed the
room and tried to put his arms round her. "Let me ex-
plain — let me tell you how it all happened. Give me a
chance to explain."

He felt her stiffen within the circle of his arms. She
looked up at him with burning eyes.

"There's nothing to explain; nothing at all. You
say that what Norman has told me is the truth. Then
that is all. Please let me go."

Barry took his arms from about her.

"It's rottenly unfair," he said violently. "Norman
lied to you about me before I ever saw you. He always
has hated me. If there is some truth in what he says,
and I'm not going to deny it, it's not all true. I care a
thundering sight more for you than he ever did. If he'd
had one jot of affection for youi do you think he'd have
come here this afternoon and made this mischief ?"

She answered him steadily. "I am glad he came. I
am glad that I know the truth. And as for you caring
for me — " her lips quivered — "I'm afraid I can't see at all
where that comes in." She moved towards the door.

Barry rushed after her. "Where are you going? Hazel
— ^you've got to forgive me . . . You can't have
forgotten 5iat you're my wife?"

She answered him stonily. "I should like to forget it.
I should like to forget that I have ever seen you."

"Hazel !" Barry had never heard her speak with such
bitterness. Somehow the youth seemed to have gone
from her voice and face. He tried to take her in his
arms, but she resisted fiercely.

"Leave me alone! Don't dare to touch me! . . .
and let me go. I don't want to stay here with you any
longer. . . . Oh!" she said passionately, "I wonder
if an)rthing you have ever said to me has been true, or
if it has all been lies — ^to get your uncle's money."

122 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

Barry turned crimson.

"I swear to you . . . Hazel, I've never cared for
any woman but you. I married you because I loved you,
and for no other reason. If I did listen to what Norman's
father said, it's all forgotten long ago. I forgot it from
the moment when I found you were the girl I met at the
theatre. I've never cared for any woman as much as
I care for you."

She looked down to the scattered broken glass at her
feet, and then up at his agitated face. "You lied to
me about her — ^unless Norman has lied. Were you ever
engaged to her?" she asked, quiveringly.

He scowled.

"Yes, I was. At least — I asked her to marry me, and
she never would say one way or the other. It's true that
she threw me over — or, at least, that she pretended to. I
got mad. It was rotten to feel that I'd been chucked by
a woman. That decided me to go to Bedmund. I went
off in a rage — I was boiling with rage . . ."

"You must have cared for her then."

"I didn't — at least ... oh, dash it all! I'm not
a boy. You can't expect me never to have met any
other woman in my life till I met you. I've liked scores
of them — so has Norman! He shouts a lot now, and
makes out that his life is ruined. I've heard him say the
same thing dozens of times . . . It's all rot!"

"You told me that you came to Bedmund to find me
— that you'd thought about me ever since that night at
the theatre. Is that true?"

Barry's eyes wavered before hers. He ran distracted
fingers through his hair.

"It is true, and it isn't," he said, desperately. "I had
thought about you. But — ^but it wasn't the reason that
took me to Bedmund. I'd no more idea than the dead
where you lived, if you must have the truth."

"I told you that because I didn't want you ever to
to know why I went there. I was a fool ... If

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 123

I'd told you the truth at first, Norman couldn't have done
what he has. But, at least, I do love you. I'd give my
soul to undo this last infernal hour . . . Hazel, aren't you
going to answer?"

"Yes," she said, hoarsely. "I am going to answer, as
you want me to." She looked him full in the eyes, "I
don't believe one word of what you've said," she told him
deliberately. "I believe that what Norman said is the
truth— every word of it. I believe that you simply mar-
ried me so that you could keep your word to your uncle
and take me away from Norman." Her cheeks were
flaming now. "I hope you'll enjoy spending your money
— if you ever get it," she added.

Barry felt as if she had struck him. He had expected
tears and a scene, but that she would ever turn and
rend him like this had been his last thought.

He looked at her with stunned eyes. She seemed al-
most like a stranger to him.

"Well," he said at last, dully. "Then that finishes it,
I suppose."

"Yes," she flared back at him. "It does. I'm sorry I
ever saw you. I'm more sorry than I can say that I
didn't listen to Uncle Joe. He was wiser than I, after
all . . ."

She waited a moment. "Good-bye !" she added.

"Hazel." She was out on the landing when Barry
caught her. He almost carried her back to the room.
He held her so tightly that he hurt her. His eyes
blazed.

"You must be mad . . . You can't go away and
leave me like this. What do you think people will say?
We were only married this morning."

His voice broke a little. He could see now that things
were serious. "Hazel, I'll go on my knees and ask your
forgiveness if you like. I'll do anything in the world
you want me to — snyibmg in the world !"

"Let me go. That's all I want."

124 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

''You don't mean that You said you loved me, and
you can't have changed so quickly. Ill make it all up
to you. I swear I will. Ill make you forget it all. I
know I've been a rotter, but I can be decent if I like,
ni be anything you want me to be. I don't care a hang
about Uncle John's money. He can keep it and wel-
come. I never meant to take it, even if you had never
known about it all."

"It's easy enough to say that now."

He let her go with such violence that she almost fell.

"You're saying all you can to hurt me," he accused
her passionately. "You're enough to rouse the devil in
any man. I've said I'm sorry. I can't do any more. I've
told you the truth, anyway."

"You only told me when you had to," she struck in.
"If Norman hadn't come here I should never have known
at an."

"You would. I meant to tell. I should have told you
to-day."

The cold contempt in her face stung him. He put his
arms round her and kissed her again and again.

"You're my wife. All the lawyers in England can't
undo that. You're ray wife, and you've got to stay with
me. You were willing to marry me. If you think I'm
going to stand quietly by and let you walk off like this
because of what that little cur Norman chooses to say,
you're making a mistake. I'll keep you if I have to lode
you in this room all night."

He broke off, breathing hard, only to rush on again
in stumbling apology. "I don't mean that. I don't
know what I'm sa3ring. I'm sorry, but you're driving
me mad. You can't be so cruel. For God's sake.
Hazel ..."

She wrenched her hand from his. "I don't believe you
ever really cared for me. I've been the fool all along. I
ought to have listened to Uncle Joe."

"Damn him !" said Barry furiously.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 125

"At any rate, he'd rather have died than told me the
lies you have/' she flashed back.

Barry dropped into a chair. He had never felt so sick
and ashamed in his life. He was angry, too, furiously
angry, because he had been so sure of her forgiveness.

He did not realise that it was because she cared so
much that she was so bitterly resentful. He did not im-
derstand that if she had loved him less she would have
found it more easy to forgive.

"Well, what do you propose to do ?" he asked.

"I shall go to my cousin's to-night. She will have me."

Barry cried out sharply: "I won't have you there!
She's no fit companion for you. I'm your husband, and
I forbid you to go !"

Her eyes flamed. "You're only my husband because
you cheated me. I should never have married you if
I had known the truth. You know that ... I shall
do as I like. Nothing yoti can say will stop me. I am
going to my cousin's."

He stood irresolute for a moment; then, "Very well,"
he said quietly, "I suppose you don't object to my tak-
ing you there?"

"You can come if you like," she answered coldly.

He flushed crimson. "I dcai't want to inflict myself
upon you. No doubt you would rather go alone."

She twisted her hands nervously. "I — I haven't got
,;my money," she told him then in a whisper.

There was something of the old childishness in her
voice again, and it melted Barry's anger instantly. He
went over to her, though now he made no attempt to
touch her.

"Forgive me. Hazel," he said humbly. "I'm not really
such a bad chap . . . I — I'd give my soul to undo
what's gone, but I can't. I can only try and make up
for it in the future. Try and forgive me. Hazel."

For an instant it seemed that she wavered. Then her
face hardened.

126 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

''I can never forgive you for having lied %o me. I
shall never believe anything you say again/'
Barry strode across the room and flung the door open.
'1 am ready when you are/' he said, darkly.

CHAPTER XVII

THE short drive across London to Delia Bentley's
flat was a nightmare to Bairy Wicklow.
He sat opposite his wife, his arms folded, his eyes
staring straight in front of him.

He never once glanced in her direction, but all the
same he was acutely conscious of her every movement.
He knew that more than once she wiped away tears that
would well to her eyes, and he swore to himself that hue
would give Norman the most thorough hiding a man ever
had. He tried to comfort his sore heart with the con-
viction that Hazel would have to forgive him sooner or
later; that it was impossible for a man's wife to go on
indefinitely ignoring him ; that in the end she would think
it over and be sorry.

As the cab turned into the rather dull square where
Delia's flat was, Barry stole a look at his wife, but her
face was averted, and he could only see the outline of a
pale cheek, and a little lock of hair.

He stifled a sigh, as the taxi drove up to the kerb
and stopped.

Barry opened the door and held his hand to Hazel, but
she ignored him. She passed him and went up the steps
to the house and through the open door into the stone-
floored hall.

Barry followed silently. He stood beside her in the
lift, so close to her that their arms were touching; but
she did not speak, and they went on and to the
door of Delia's flat.

Here Hazel turned and faced him. "You need not
come any further," she said. "Good-bye."

Her voice was hard and she did not raise her eyes

127

128 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

above the white flower in his button-hole. The flower
had died now. It hung its scented head forlornly against
Barry's coat as if ashamed of having assisted, even
in such a small way, at his disastrous wedding.

The colour flamed to Barry's face. He began to
answer angrily, then checked himself.

"Very well," he said, grimly. "Perhaps you will let
me know what story you intend to tell your cousin, so
that I can repeat it to any of my friends who are

cunous."

I shall tell her that I found out I didn't like you after
all. That is the truth," she said, defiantly.

Barry laughed. He was not going to believe this, at
all events, but for the moment at least he supposed it
would be wisdom to humour her.

"Very well," he said, lightly. "If that is a good enough
yam for you, it is for me; and — ^your mother?"

Hazel's lips quivered. "I will write to her. You need
not trouble yourself about my people."

"Very well ; and with regard to money," Barry began
diffidently, "anything you want, of course . . ."

"I shall never want anything of yours," she told him.
"I only want to forget that I ever knew you." The
words sounded convincing, and Barry winced.

"Then it is useless for me to stay any longer, I sup-
pose," he said, stiffly. "If ever you should want me at
any time — I laiow it's not remotely possible, but just in
case — a letter, or a 'phone message to my rooms will al-
ways find me."

She might not have heard for all the notice she took.
She had turned away and had pressed the bell on Delia's
front door. Barry waited till he heard steps in the
narrow passage inside. Then he went back down the
stairs.

It was Delia herself who opened the door. She was
wearing a tea-gown of her favourite golden colour, and
was smoking a cigarette. She stared at Hazel for a

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 129

moment without speaking, then: "Goodness gracious!"
she ejaculated "What in the world? . . . Surely
you haven't quarrelled yet ?" she asked, helplessly.

Hazel nodded. She pushed past her cousin and went
on into the gaudy little sitting-room.

She broke down completely then and sobbed, with her
pretty face buried in Delia's golden cushions.

Delia stood by frowning for a moment. Then, not
unkindly, she put a hand on Hazel's shoulder.

"You'll ruin those cushions," she said. "Do turn off
the water works and tell me what has happened, and
where is Barry."

Hazel sat up. Her face was all flushed and tear-stained,
her hair dishevelled. "I hate him," she said. "I wish
I'd never seen him."

Delia sat down on the arm of a chair and stared at her
pretty feet in their high-heeled shoes. "It's a bit soon,"
she said at last. "What has happened since I left you?"

"I've found him out," Hazel answered sobbing. "He
didn't really want to marry me. It was all. . . . Oh,
I wish I'd never seen him."

Delia threw her cigarette away and selected a fresh
one.

"Humph! Well, I'm not altogether surprised," she
said calmly. "He's a bit of a goer from what I've
heard about him. But on your wedding-day ! It's a bit
rapid! What have you heard exactly?"

Hazel told her story disconnectedly. She was longing
for S3mipathy, but Delia's nature was not much inclined
that way. She was just a practical woman with a streak
of surprising sentimentality in her. She listened stoically
enough, and when Hazel had finished she laughed.

"It sounds rather like melodrama," she said. "But,
anyway, from what I know of the WicMows, you've
married the best of them, my dear . . . That Nor-
man !" She broke off with a shrug of her shoulders.

Hazel looked up. "Do you know him ?' she asked.

130 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

"Do I?" the elder girl echoed. "Do I not! He was
hanging round one of our girls for weeks. It was throtigfa
him that I met your Barry."

"You mean that you knew Barry, too? Before that
day down home — ^before that day at Bedmund?"

"Yes. He came behind at the theatre one night. I
knew I had met him before somewhere, but for the mo-
ment I couldn't recall his name. It came back after-
wards, and I asked him why he was travelling incog. ; so
to speak. I know now, of course."

Hazel felt as if her idol were falling to piecies at her
feet. What else had she got to discover about him, she
wondered helplessly.

"I should forgive him if I were you," Delia said after
a moment. "They're a good family, the Wicklows, and
you can make his people take you up if you play your
cards properly. They've got tons of money, too. You'll
be very silly if you let him off scot free."

Hazel did not understand . She sat with her hands
clasped in her lap, her eyes full of unshed tears. She
could only think of Barry as he had been that night
down at the farm when he told her he loved her. He
seemed an altogether different man from the one from
whom she had just parted.

"An3rway, if you won't go back to him, what are you
going to do?" Delia asked after a moment.

Hazel looked up. "I thought I could stay with you,
for a little while at least. I don't want to go back home.
Uncle Joe would be so angry, and I don't feel that I can
face him."

"Stay here!" Delia echoed sharply. "Heavens! what
shall I do with you here? You haven't got any money,
have you?"

Hazel's face flamed. "No," she said ; "but — ^I suppose
I can work, can't I ?"

There was a little silence.

Delia paced up the room and came back.

"Look here. Hazel," she said, "you'd better make it up

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WiCKXOW 13!

with your husband. After all, he may be quite all right
in the future. Give him a chance. Gracious ! I thought
he was keen enough on you by the way he looked at
you. Give him a diance, and then if you find it isn't go^
ing to work. . . ."

Hazel drew away from her. "1*11 never go back to
him," she said obstinately.

Delia frowned. "Very well, you can stay here for the
present, and FU see what's to be done. You'd better write
to your mother or somebody and say where you are, or
else they'll all be having forty fits." She looked at the girl
consideringly.

"You're quite pretty, of course," she said dispassion-
ately. "I might get Greaves to give you a walking-on
part if you think you could stick it."

Hazel echoed the words, not understanding. "A walk-
ing-on part ?"

"On the stage, silly ! A part in the chorus. You won't
have anything to do except smile," she added, impatiently.

Hazel's eyes glowed. "Oh, I should love it ! I've al-
ways longed to go on the stage."

Delia made a grimace. "That shows your ignorance,"
she said tartly. "However, we'll see, but I'm not going
to promise 3.nythmg. It all depends."

"Here, you'd better have some tea," she went on with
a change of voice. "You look a fright with those red
eyes. I should think your head aches, too. I've got to
run out for an hour, but I shall be back about half-
past six. Make yourself at home and cheer up ! Heavens !
there are other men in the world beside Barry Wicklow."

Delia rang for tea and went off to change her frock.
She called out to the smart maid to fetch her a taxi.
Presently she came back dressed for outdoors.

Hazel thought she looked beautiful. She admired the
too-smart costume and rakish hat. The clothes she had
chosen with such pride for her wedding seemed dowdy
beside them. It seemed ajg^es and ages ago since she

132 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

had! driven off from this very flat with Delia to be mar-
ried, and yet it had only been that morning!

"I thought you had your own car," she ventured pres-
ently when Delia started to fume because a taxi was so
long coming. "Wasn't that your car you came to Bed-
mund in?"

Delia laughed. "I wish it had been. It's Laurie Hul-
bert's. You don't know Laurie? No f Well, you needn't
hanker to. He's as mean as they make 'em. Little rat !"
she added viciously.

The smart maid came to the door. "The taxi is here.

miss."

Delia blew a kiss to Hazel. "Make yourself at home,
and for heaven's sake cheer up," she said.

She went off down the stairs and out into the street.

The taxi driver stood waiting at the door of his cab.
Delia gave him Barry Wicklow's address. "And look
sharp," she a^ded.

Barry had just reached his rooms when Delia drove
up. He turned and glanced casually over his shoulder;
then he saw Delia and stopped.

She called to him from the window of the taxi.

"Come and help me out, you rude man !"

Barry obeyed sulkily. "Have you come to see me?"
he asked ungraciously. "I've just left Hazel at your
flat."

"I know. That's why I'm here. Can I come in? I
want to talk to you."

Barry hesitated. "I'll drive along with vou if I may,"
he said finally. He got into the taxi beside her.

Delia looked at him with a twinkle. "Well, you've
made a nice hash-up of everything," she said cheerily.

He did not answer. "Hazel wants to stay with me,"
Delia went on. "She's mad to go on the stage. Between
you and me, my dear boy, she rather welcomes her free-
dom for that reason. However "

Barry flushed furiously. "I won't allow my wife on the
stage. I hate everything to do with the stage."

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 133

*'Well, you won't be able to stop her," Delia told him
easily. "The day is past when she was willing to do as
you told her. Oh, I'm not preaching! Don't look so
angry! As a matter of fact, I'm going to try and be-
friend you both — for a consideration !"

She looked at Barry from beneath her long lashes.
She laid a hand on the sleeve of his coat. "Come, you
know I'm as poor as a church mouse," she said coax-
ingly. "And you're not! What's it worth, Barry, if I
look after this little country girl for you ?"

Barry sat staring at the floor, and there was a hard line
between his eyes.

"What are you proposing — ^actually?" he asked dryly.

Delia laughed. "Well ! I thought perhaps you'd think
it worth while to keep in with me," she said lightly. "I
know you don't like me. I know you won't like the idea
of Hazel living in my flat, so if you care to pay for it,
I'll try to send her home, or at least I'll see that she
doesn't go on the stage, since you are so against it."

She made an impatient gesture. "Goodness !" she said
with a touch of exasperation. "What are you scowling
like that for! If you're so mighty keen about the girl
you shouldn't have let her quarrel with you in the first
place. I'm only offering to help you. She is going
to be a nice handful, I can see."

Barry had never cared for this girl, but he felt now
that he hated her; he could not trust himself to speak.
Delia went on irritably :

"It's all very well, but I've got myself to think about.
It's no use putting on that saintly air with me, Barry "

"I object to being called by my Christian name,"
Barry said with temper. But she only laughed.

"I shall call you what I like, and if you're not very
careful I shall tell that wife of yours a few interesting
little details that occurred in your life before she knew
you. Ah ! I thought that would rouse yon."

She opened her handbag and drew out a powder-puff.

X34 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

with which she dabbed her nose viciously. "Well/' she
said presently, "what offers ?"

Barry set his teeth. He loathed the position. He did
not want Hazel to have anything to do with this girl ; but
for the present at least he supposed he had better be
diplomatic.

"If you look after her," he said with an effort. ^'Really
look after her, mind you, I'll see you're not the loser.
I'm not going to let her stay with you more than a few
days, though," he added darkly.

She looked at him with good-natured scorn.

"It isn't a question of what you're going to let her do,
my dear boy," she told him bluntly. "Hazel's made up
her mind to wash you out once and for all, take it from

me.

Barry let down the window with a slam. "You can
drop me here," he said shortly.

She changed her manner at once. She laughed. "I'm
only teasing. Don't take any notice. It's my way. I'll
look after her for you, and let you know every day how
the darling gets on. You don't like me, I know, but I'm
not half a bad sort, really."

Barry smiled in spite of himself.

Delia saw her advantage and pressed on.

"You give me a tenner a week, and Hazel shan't go on
the stage; but if you don't. . . ."

His temper rose again. He answered almost rudely.
"I'm not going to be bullied like this. Anything I may
do will be for my wife, and not for you. Besides, it's
only for the next few days. Hazel will soon want to go
home."

"I hope she will," Delia said energetically. "She's too
weepy for me. The first thing she did when she got
there was to cry all over my cushions."

Barry looked away. He hated to think of Hazel in
distress, with only this girl's doubtful sympathy to help
her through.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 135

"Wdl, you can drop me here, anyway," he said. "And
I'll see you again to-morrow. And, look here ! If Hazel
leaves you, you let me know that minute. You can ring
up.

"Very well," she nodded and smiled. "So long !"

Barry left her and walked away. He did not trust
her in the least, but he knew Hazel had no money, and
he supposed he had done the best thing possible in the
circumstances. Delia would look after her all right as
long as she was paid to do it. There was some small
grain of comfort in the thought.

He walked round to the hotel where his uncle stayed
when he was in town, but Mr. Wicklow was out. He
had heard from his son of the scene with Barry, and had
discreetly betaken himself off. He had seen Barry in a
rage before, and had no wish to repeat the experience.

Barry walked aimlessly away wondering what the
deuce he should do with himself. He was still wearing
his wedding clothes. His eye fell on the dead flower in
his button-hole, and he tore it out with an angry hand
and flung it away.

He was really very miserable. He went back to his
rooms, and stood looking round him wretchedly.

It was all Norman's fault — confound him ! Some day
he would give Norman the biggest thrashing . . .

What a wedding-day for a man to have! He looked
down at the fragments of smashed glass which still lay
on the floor. He stooped and picked Agnes Dudley's por-
trait from the debris. He scowled down at the smiling
face.

It was her fault, too-! If she hadn't written him that
infernally silly letter three weeks ago, none of all this
would ever have happened. He would never have seen
Hazd. He would never have got himself into this unholy
mess.

He tore the photograph in halves and threw it into the
feoal box. Women were all the same. You couldn't rdy
on any of them for more than two minutes at a time.

136 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKXOW

Jilted by one, and deserted by another on his wedding-
day!

Life was a rotten concern ; he was fully persuaded that
he did not care how soon it ended. Of course, Norman
would take good care that the news of his marriage and
its result should be heard at the clubs; he gritted his
teeth ; he hated being laughed at, and he knew how people
would laugh.

He poured himself out a strong drink and felt bet-
ter; after all, moping never cured anything; he changed
his clothes and brushed his hair; he would go round to
the club and see how much Norman had told already ; one
might as well know the worst at once ; he was getting into
an overcoat when the doorbell rang; he opened the door
without waiting for the housekeeper to come.

Joe Daniels stood there in the dim light.

He looked very tall and overpowering, and for a sec-
ond Barry felt slightly apprehensive, then he pulled him-
self together.

"Er — ^how d^'ye do," he said, "Er — ^won't you come in."

The farmer obeyed and Barry shut the door. "Er — I
suppose you got my wire," he said awkwardly.

"Yes. We got your wire." The elder man's voice
sounded heavy. He kept his eyes on Barry's face. "Yes,
we got your wire," he said again.

Barry shuflFled his feet. "Well— er . . . that's all
right, then," he said with an effort to speak cheerfully.

He had an uncomfortable feeling that something was
wrong. He indicated a chair. "Won't you sit down?"
he asked.

"No, sir, I will not," the farmer answered. "I have
come to fetch my niece, and when I have found her I
will go away and trouble you no more."

His face flamed suddenly. He clenched his fist. "I
knew what you were from the first!" he said, with an
outburst of rage. "I saw through you before you'd been
in our house twenty-four hours ... I told her
mother . . . " He broke off.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 137

Barry shrugged his shoulders. "It's useless arguing, I
know," he said coolly. "And your niece is not here.
, . . She's with her cousin. Miss Bentley. I can give
you the address. If you care to go there you will see for
yourself that I am telling you the truth."

He met the fanner's eyes steadily. He wished the old
beggar wouldn't glare at him like that.

"I will take you to her this minute, if you like," he said
again impatiently. "Come, Mr. Daniels, it's no use adopt-
ing this attitude, it's not my fault that Hazel ran away
from home ; I knew nothing about it till I went down to
the farm and saw Mrs. Bentley ; she will have told you
I daresay. We'll go along and see Hazel — I'll send for a
taxi."

The farmer stood motionless by the table as Barry
walked out of the room ; he made a stiff, forbidding fig-
ure ; he never moved till Barry returned.

"There's a taxi waiting," Barry said shortly. "If
you'll come along."

They went down the stairs and drove the short dis-
tance to Delia's flat without speaking.

On the landing Barry stopped. "You'd better let me
go and tell her first. She's rather afraid to meet you."
Daniels made no answer, and Barry went on, with a
shrug of his shoulders.

"Obstinate old brute !" he muttered under his breath.

The smart maid admitted them. Miss Bentley was
not )ret in, she told them, but the other young lady . . .

Barry brushed past her, and went on to the sitting-
room door. Hazel was there, listlessly turning the pages
of a magazine. When she saw him she rose to her feet.

Barry broke into incoherent explanations.

"It's your uncle — Mr. Daniels. I had to bring him."

The fanner had followed him into the room. For a
moment he looked at Hazel without speaking; then he
said : "So he has spoken the truth for once, and you are
here with your cousin !" His voice was bitter.

138 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

Hazel did not answer. She looked very pale, but her
eyes were defiant.

"I'm going to stay here/' she broke out excitedly. "I'm
not going back to Cleave Farm. Delia is willing for me
to stay here, and you can't make me go back. Mother
wouldn't wish it if she knew everything."

She stopped, struck by something in the farmer's ex-
pression. "Oh what is it?" she asked in a whisper.

The elder man's hard face quivered for an instant;
then he said, almost brutally: "Your mother will never
wish an3^ing for you again as long as you live, my girl.
You've killed her between you — ^you and this man here.
Your mother is dead !"

CHAPTER XVIII

A TERRIBLE silence followed the farmer's words.
The wings of tragedy seemed to have swooped
down and settled on the gaudy little room.

Hazel stood frozen with horror, her pretty eyes fixed
on her uncle's relentless face.

It was Barry who broke the silence, Barry who took
a stride forward and gripped the farmer's arm. "Mr.
Daniels, for God's sake ! It's not true. . . ."

The elder man's hard eyes turned to Barry's face.
When he spoke his voice was unemotional.

"It's quite true," he said. "Hazel's mother died in her
sleep last night. We found her this morning . . ."
His voice rose to a sort of dull anger. "You can thank
yourself for this, Mr. Ashford, or whatever you choose
to call yourself. Her death lies at your door."

He waited a second, then turned on his heel. When he
reached the door he stopped again and looked back at
the two white young faces. "You took Hazel away from
my house," he said ; "you took her away from her home
. . . Well! you can keep her now. I've done with
her — done with you both." The door shut behind him.
' Barry stood like a man turned to stone. Into what
depth of tragedy had his recklessness led him !

Hazel was sitting on the couch, Delia's gaudy cushions
tumbling about her. Her hands were clasped in her
lap; her eyes looked blank.

Barry went over to her. He knelt down beside her.

"It's not true," he urged. "Don't believe him, Hazel.
I don't believe him. It's just a lie, a cruel lie."

She turned her eyes to his face with an effort. "It
is true," she said. "You know it's true.

139

140 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

The words were purely mechanical. "It's quite true/'
she said again lifelessly. "And what Uncle Joe said is
true as well. We killed her — you and I."

There was something in her stony grief that was un-
bearable to Barry, he put his arms round her.

"It's not fair to say that. It's not fair to yourself, or
to me."

Hazel pushed him away. She rose to her feet, her
hands hard pressed over her eyes.

"Oh, go away, go away," she said wildly. "Leave me
alone. Oh, why can't you leave me alone?" Barry
watched her in despair.

It was a nightmare, this unending day! Much as he
longed to try and comfort her, he felt the futility of it.

She was his wife, but she cared nothing for him. She
would never forgive him for this. Whatever happened
in the future, she would blame him for her mother's
death. She would lay this last and greatest blow of all
at his door.

She turned on him almost angrily.

"Why are you standing there staring at me? Gro
away! It's your fault. AH this is your fault. I was
happy enough till I met you. If you had never come to
the farm mother would have been alive and well to-day."
She broke down at last into a passion of sobbing.

Barry was beside her instantly. He tried to put his
arms round her.

"Darling, darling!" he said, brokenly. "I'd give any-
thing in the world to bring her back. Hazel, for God's
sajcwC • • ■

She struggled against him. "Let me go ! I can't bear
you to touch me. I hate you to touch me."

She freed herself from him, and crouched sobbing by
the couch, her pretty head amongst Delia's golden
cushions.

Barry stood looking down at her helplessly. This was
the end of everything, he supposed. She had said that

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 141

she hated him. She had struggled against him as if she
hated him.

The outside door of the flat slammed. A moment, and
Delia walked into the room.

She stood for a second staring blankly; then she came
slowly forward.

"I thought you two had agreed to differ," she said with
a touch of exasperation. "This flat isn't to let, if you
think it is, and I don't want you dodging in and out all
day long."

"You needn't worry," he said hoarsely. "It's the last
time you'll see me here . . ." He went away without
another backward glance.

Delia shrugged her shoulders. She spoke to Hazel
roughly.

"For heaven's sake, stop crying, child ! What's he done
now ? Why did you let him come here ?"

Hazel raised her face ; such a pitiful, tragic face.

"I'm not crying for him," she said fiercely. "I wish
I'd never seen him . . . It's my mother . . . Oh,
Delia ! She's dead, she's dead, and Uncle Joe says that
I killed her! Mother . . . Mother . . ."

Delia caught her breath hard, her face changing com-
pletely. "Dead ! Your mother ! . . ." She dropped
down suddenly to her knees beside Hazel. She gathered
her into her arms with wonderful tenderness.

"Oh, you poor little thing, you poor little thing," she
said, compassionately.

CHAPTER XIX

BARRY WICKLOW drained his tumbler and set it
down on the table at his elbow with a jerk.
It was a fortnight later. Outside in the London
streets a fine drizzling rain was falling, blurring the win-
dows and making everything look thoroughly grey and
wretched. Even the club room where Barry had been
trying to kill the afternoon was more silent and de-
pressing than usual.

He had tried to sleep, but after half-an-hour shifting
and turning about in a chair had given it up.

There was nobody else in the big room but himself. A
small fire, which some enterprising soul had lit to try
and chase out the gloom, crackled cheerily on the hearth.

Barry got up and poked it with his foot to make a
bigger blaze. As he did so his eye fell on a calendar
standing on the mantel-shelf. He noted the date with a
grim sort of humour.

Just a fortnight since his wedding-day! If anyone had
told him it was a year ago he would not have been in the
least surprised. He felt as if he had dragged through
months and months of remorse and wretchedness since
that fatal afternoon.

He had not seen Hazel since. He had written to her
dozens of times, but none of his letters had been an-
swered. He had written to Mr. Daniels at Cleave Farm,
and the letter had come back unopened.

He had tried to get hold of Norman, but his cousin
had left London. He had tried to get hold of his uncle,
and had failed.

Mr. Wicklow had sent him a cheque for the sum
agreed upon between than, and Barry had promptly re-

14a

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 143

turned it. Since, he had wondered if he had been a fool
to do that. Groodness knows he had earned it, anyway.

Sometimes he felt he would have given SLnything to
undo that marriage in the silent London church. At
other times he was fiercely glad that she was tied to him
— at least in name.

He knew that the news of his marriage had got out.
He knew that everyone had known about it, and had been
talking about it for the past week. He supposed he had
Norman to thank for that, too.

The future looked unpromising enough, as he stood
glowering before him down the deserted room.

The only person who had befriended him at all during
this last rotten fortnight was Delia! Barry was be-
ginning to think that he had rather misjudged her after
all. She had certainly been kind to him, and apparently
she had been kind to Hazel, too. Once or twice he had
hung about outside the flat in the evenings to try and
catch a glimpse of Hazel, but he had never succeeded.

He thought of her as he had last seen her, sobbing with
her pretty head in Delia's gaudy cushions, and he gave
a great sigh.

They might have been so happy together, he and she !
• • •

The door of the room swung noiselessly open and a
man entered. He was short and smartly dressed, and
inclined to be bald. He looked at Barry and nodded af-
fably enough, though there was a little sly smile in his
eyes.

Barry returned the nod curtly. He had always disliked
Hulbert, even before he had tried to cut him out with
Agnes Dudley, and he still disliked him, though there
was no longer any cause for jealousy between them.

He came over to where Barry stood taking up all the
fire, rubbing his hands chillily. "Nasty day," he said
meaningly.

"Yes," Barry moved a couple of inches. "Beastly
day," he said.

144 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

Hulbert held his hands to the blaze. There was a fine
diamond ring on one of his fingers. It sparkled in the
firelight.

There was a moment's silence. "Well, and how goes
it?" said Hulbert. He looked Barry up and down, and
noticed his sullen face.

Barry grunted. "Not very well?" Hulbert went on.
"Well, never mind; there's a good time coming for all
of us— eh?"

"Not for me there isn't," Barry answered in rather a
surly voice. "Nor for you, if you're counting on getting
back that money I owe you. I haven't got a bob in the
world."

Hulbert's eyes narrowed a little. "Humph! Well,
that's bad," he said cheerfully. "However, I've waited
so long for it that I suppose I can wait a bit longer. By
the way, Wicklow, is it true that you've been getting
married ? Your cousin was telling me . . ."

"You knc*w damned well it's true," said Barry sav-
agely. He had turned very red. Hulbert hastened to
soothe him down.

"Well, there's no need to get rusty about it," he said.
"I'm delighted to hear it, I'm sure. I congratulate you."

Barry did not answer. "By the way," the other man
went on, "I met a friend of yours last night, a Miss
Bentley. She told me she knew you."

Barry looked up sharply.

"Oh — er — ^yes ! I know her slightly," he said.

He wondered how much of his private affairs she had
discussed with Hulbert.

"Pretty little thing!" the other man went on com-
placently. "Greaves is going to give her a show in the
autumn. He says that even if she isn't particularly clever
it won't matter, because her face will pull her through."

Barry shrugged his shoulders. "I shouldn't have called
her even passably good'-looking," he said shortly. "How-
ever, opinions differ, and Greaves ought to know what
he's doing. Thought she was on the stage though !"

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 145

'Good Lord, no! Country girl to her finger tips.
Hulbert chuckled. "She blushed every time she
was spoken to."

Barry turned slowly till he was facing his companion.
"Are you talking about Delia Bentley ?" he asked in faint
amazement.

Hulbert chuckled again.

"Delia! Lord, no! She's no country girl! Gad! I
can't imagine her blushing. . . , No, no, I was
speaking about that little cousin of hers. Hazel she tells
me her name is."

So this was how Delia had kept her promise !

That was the first furious thought that passed through
Barry's mind. This was how she had pretended to
befriend himself and Hazel, by introducing her to men
like Hulbert and Greaves !

Barry knew Greaves. He had knocked about with
him many a time in the past, and thought him a jolly
good fellow, but it turned him cold to diink of him in
connection with Hazel.

He controlled himself with an effort. He realised that
he would discover far more by holding his tongue than
by furiously blurting out that Hazel was his wife, and
that he would not allow her on the stage, either under
Greaves' management or the management of any other
man. He went back to his chair, sitting with his back
to the light so as to keep his face in shadow.

"Oh, you mean Delia Bentley's cousin," he said, evenly.
"I see. I didn't understand. So Greaves is going to give
her a show, is he?"

"Says he will ; but you can never be sure of that chap.
I shouldn't mind putting up some of the money. I've a
sort of conviction that she'll make a name for herself.
Touched up a bit and properly dressed, she'll be the
prettiest little thing "

He offered a cigar to Barry. "Have one?"

Barry shook his head. "No thanks , . ." He kept

146 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

his eyes lowered. He was afraid that if he looked up
Hulbert would see the rage in them.

"Fm taking her out to supper to-night," Hulbert went
on complacently.

He was a vain man. Barry had heard his boast be-
fore, scores of times, about his many conquests.

"She's never been anywhere or seen a,nythmg, you
know," the elder man went on. "It'll be sport to see
what she thinks of London as I shall show it to her.

• • •

He blew a cloud of smoke into the air and smiled mean-
ingly.

"Where are yoU taking her?" Barry asked. He was
surprised at the steadiness of his own voice.

Hulbert shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. There
are so many places. You must come along one night,
Wicklow, and see the fun."

"Thanks. I should like to."

There was a moment's silence. "I suppose," Barry
asked then, "I suppose she isn't — married — or anj^hing
like that, eh?"

"Married ? Who ? Little Hazel ! Lord, no, I should
say not! Why, she can't be more than about eighteen.
She told me she'd lived in the country all her life, on a
farm. I can well believe it. She looks as if she'd been
brought up on cream and new-laid eggs."

Barry rose to his feet. His face was flushed. This
man's careless words had driven him back to the night at
Cleave Farm when he first kissed Hazel.

It all came to him again so easily — the dusky evening,
the faint scent of the hay, the touch of her soft hair
against his face. He seemed to hear her voice.

"I never knew that I really loved you — till you kissed
me

Well, she didn't love him now, at any rate. She must
hate him very heartily to have so deliberately kept the
fact of their marriage hidden. Norman and he had
both thought her beneath them, but now it was Hazel

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 147

who was not proud to have to admit she was Mrs. Barry
Wicklow.

Hulbert touched his arm. "Dreaming! I've asked
you twice what you'll have to drink."

Barry roused himself with a start.

"Notfiing, thanks. I — I've just had a drink. I won't
have anything more. I've got an appointment. See you
later."

He went away, leaving Hulbert staring after him.

It was raining when he reached the street. He turned
up the collar of his coat and shivered. Rotten weather !
Enough to give a man the blues if he had everything
he wanted in the world; but when a poor devil had noth-
ing. . . .

He strode on savagely. He could only think of Hazel
in the company of tiiis man and his friends; Hazel in
a night-club, Hazel with her wild-rose face, one of a
crowd such as Delia always had round her.

He had stayed away from her purposely all this fort-
night. He had been so sure that she would be sorry
and want him, but she had made no sign. She had just
ignored him.

He hardly knew that his steps had turned towards
Delia's flat till he found himself at the door; but he went
on and up in the lift and rang the bell.

Hazel was his wife, and it was the place of a man's
wife to do as her husband wished. He kept on telling
himself this as he waited for an answer to his ring.

It seemed an eternity till llie smart maid opened the
door. Barry flushed beneath her quizzical eyes as he
asked for Miss Hazel.

He had almost asked for Mrs. Wicklow, but just
checked himself in time. He was not going to thrust his
name upon her if she was unwilling to take it.

Yes, she was in. If he would go to the drawing-room.

Barry obeyed blindly. The blood was singing in his
ears, and for a moment he could hardly see when at last
he stood in Delia's gaudy room.

'■«%•.

148 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

There was a fire burning, and the couch with the
golden cushions was drawn close to it. There was the
same faint scent in the room which Barry loathed. He
shook his shoulders distastefully as he went forward.

Hazel was sitting on a low stool on the hearthrug. She
looked up startled when she heard his step ; then she rose
to her feeu

CHAPTER XX

THERE was a moment of silence. Barry was look-
ing at her with eager eyes. In a man's indefinite
way he was realising vaguely that she had changed a
great deal since he last saw her, though he hardly knew
how or in what way.

Her hair was differently dressed. Her clothes were
different. There was something — sl sort of flippancy
about her whole manner that turned him cold.

"Good afternoon," she said composedly. She pushed
forward a chair.

"Won't you sit down?" Barry was remembering how
Hulbert had said that she blushed whenever she was
spoken to. There was no sign of agitation in her face
now. Her blue eyes met his dispassionately.

She was dressed all in black, but such smart black,
that somehow she did not look as if she were in mourn-
ing. Barry, glancing at her hands, saw that she no
longer wore his ring, that she wore no rings at all.

He ignored the chair she had offered. He went straight
to his point.

"I've just been talking to Hulbert — ^you know Hulbert.
He tells me you are going on the stage under the man-
agement of that — that man Greaves."

He spoke a little breathlessly. "Well," said Hazel.
And what if I am?"

"I won't have it, that's all," Barry answered excitedly.
You're my wife, and I won't have it, I tell you ! The
stage is no place for you. I told you when I first met
you that I hated it. I repeat it now, and I forbid you —
I absolutely forbid you — to have anything to do with it
or that man Greaves."

149

((

150 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

She shrugged her shoulders. If she were at all dis-
turbed by his visit she hid the fact admirably. She went
back to her humpty stool and looked up at him with a
provoking smile.

"Well, I'm going to, all the same," she said quietly.

There was a little table standing at her elbow. It held
Delia's cigarette case.

Hazel put out her hands and took it up. She opened it
with a little click and selected a cigarette. Barry watched
her with burning eyes.

If he had only known it. Hazel had never smoked a
cigarette in the whole course of her life, but the long-
ing to hurt him, to shock him, put the thought into her
head. She held the cigarette daintily towards him.

"Please give me a light . . ." Barry stood quite
still for a moment. Then he leaned forward, and snatch-
ing it out of her hands threw it into the fire.

"How dare you smoke !" he said furiously. "I hate to
see a woman smoke . . . Don't you ever let me see
you do it again."

She raised her eyebrows. "How very absurd!" she
said amusedly. She put out her hand again towards the
silver case; but Barry was before her. He snatched it
up and sent it flying across the room.

"I suppose you're trying to copy your estimable
cousin," he said bitterly. "If you are, you're behaving
like a little fool. I thought better of you. Hazel . . ."
His voice softened wonderfully. "Oh, my dear," he said
pleadingly.

She rose to her feet, frowning petulantly,

"Why do you come here ? I told you I never wanted
to see you again, and I meant it. I'm quite happy. Why
can't you leave me alone? I thought you understood that
it was all over between us."

"All over, when you're my wife!"

She would not look at him. "I never should have
married you if I'd known. You know that. We can
forget all about it. I haven't interfered with you."

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 151

"I wish to God you would!" Barry exclaimed hoarsely.

What he had most dreaded had come to pass. Hazel
was adopting Delia's life. She was quite happy in her
new surroundings, quite happy without him.

Instead of this last fortnight tightening his hold of
her, it had relaxed it. There was no longer a place for
him in her life.

She was standing twisting her fingers together, and
frowning. She seemed somehow like a stranger to him.

He could not believe that she was the little girl who
had been so happy with him down at Cleave Farm.

Presently she looked up defiantly.

"As you are here," she said slowly, "perhaps — I was
going to write to you — ^but perhaps I can ask you now in-
stead of writing it."

"Yes," said Barry quickly.

"You know if there is an)rthing I can do for you —
anything in the world — I shall be only too pleased — ^too
happy . . ."

She shook her head. "You won't . . . not to do
this . . ." And then the silence fell again.

Barry took a step forward. He laid his hands on her
shoulders, turning her to him.

"What are you trying to say?" he demanded.

She shook his hands off irritably. She laughed — a little
reckless laugh that sounded somehow more like Delia
than Hazel.

"I want to know if — if it wouldn't be possible to — ^to
get — ^get our marriage annulled," she said at last.

She looked at Barry quite steadily as she asked her
question, thoQgh her colour had risen a little. She did
not give him time to answer ; she rushed on.

"It can be done. I know it can. Delia says so, too.
She knew a girl who got tired^of her husband, and

** She stopped, arrested by something in Barry

Wicklow's face.

"Don't quote Delia to me," he broke out passionately.
"I might have known what it would be ; I'd no right to

152 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

have allowed you to come here. I always hate the
thought of you living with her."

Hazel shrugged her shoulders.

"We dton't need to argue about that," she said, with
a touch of impatience. "I like it; I've never been so
happy in my life." But her voice wavered a little as if
she did not quite mean what she said. "I always wanted
to live in London. I can't think how I ever put up
with Cleave Farm for so long."

Barry covered the ground between them in a stride;
he took her by the shoulders and shook her.

"How dare you say such things? I can hardly rec-
ognize you, Hazel. What in heaven's name has changed
you so ? It's not three weeks since we were so happy to-
gether, I won't believe that any woman could change
so quickly."

She looked at him with hard eyes. "If I have changed
it's your fault," she told him. "I was happy with you. I
did love you ; I thought you were the most wonderful man
in the world." Her voice quivered a little, and she
laughed quickly to hide her unwilling emotion. "I was
an idiot! I suppose I ought to have guessed that you
were not what I thought. Delia says that men never are
what you think them. I wish I had listened to Uncle
Joe — oh, I wish I had !"

Barry released her violently.

"I wish to heaven you had, too !" he said, with sUdden
passion. "If you think it's any pleasure to me to be
tied to a woman who hates the sight of me, you're mis-
taken. I should like to be free as much as you — ^perhaps
more. But you must be out of your mind to think
such a thing can be done. We're married, and we've got
to make the best of it. I could make you live with me if
I chose ; the law is on my side."'

Hazel laughed scornfully. "All the law in the world
wouldn't make me live with you, I don't know why you
came here — I didn't want to see you — I was quite happy."

"I came here to forbid you to have anything to do with

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 153

Hulbert and men like him ; they're not fit for you to mix
with. Hulbert tells me he is taking you out to supper;
well, I forbid you to go."

Hazel did not answer ; she went back to the sofa and
picked up the magazine she had been reading.

"Did you hear what I said?" Barry demanded after
a moment.

She raised her eyes for a second, and dropped them
again. "I should tfiink everyone in the flat must have
heard," she retorted.

Barry clenched his fists; it was all so unreal; he felt
as if he were talking to a strange woman who looked at
him with Hazel's eyes; he cursed Delia for having
brought about this change.

"I forbid you to speak to Hulbert again," he said after
a moment. "And as for that man Greaves. . . ."

She laughed provokingly. "I like Mr. Greaves ; he has
been very kind to me."

"Kind!" Barry shouted; his eyes were furious. "Do
you know what sort of a man he is ? Do you know that

he — ^he " His voice dropped suddenly ; he went over

and sat down beside her.

"Listen to me, my dear," he said shakily. "You're
young, and you don't know anything of the world. You've
got nobody to look after you but me. Oh, I know you
hate me." He rushed on as she would have interrupted.
"But I'm going to tell you, all the same, that it's madness,
sheer machiess, for a child like you to get in with Greaves
and his lot You mustn't do it, Hazel ; your cousin ought
to be shot for ever having allowed it in the first place.

"I thought better of her. Let me take you away ! you
can live in my rooms if you like, and I'll clear out. I
don't want to force myself upon you. I'm sorry enough
for everything that's happened, but you're my wife, and
it's my duty to look after you."

She raised her eyes coldly to his agitated face. *

"To look after me and see that I don't tarnish the
aristocratic name of 'Wicklow,' is that it?" she asked. She

154 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

rose to her feet. "Oh, you needn't be afraid; I'm not
likely to disgrace you. I don't want to use your name;
I'm not proud of it. Nobody need know that we were
ever married."

"But I want them to know," he urged. "I want every-
one to know that you are my wife. I'll take you away;
we'll go abroad; you've never seen the world. Hazel.
You'd have the time of your life." He^paused eagerly.

"With — ^you ?" she asked She looked away from him.
"Thank you, but I would rather stay here." She went
over to the window and stood looking out into the street.
Her breath was coming fast, and her hands were clasped
together to hide their trembling; but Barry only saw the
defiant carriage of her head and heard the hard finality
of her voice.

There was a long moment of silence, then he got up
and followed her.

"And this is your last word ?" he asked stiflFly.

She answered without turning : "Yes, quite."

"You realise what it means ? If you send me away I'm
not coming back any more. I've done my best; I'm
willing to do an)rthing in the world to make up for the
past I'll take you away an)rwhere you like this minute ;

but— but after to-day " He stopped. "Well— it's

an end if I go now."

"Very well."

She did not even look round.

Barry picked up his hat and coat from a chair and
walked to the door.

He looked round the little room, with its gaudy fur-
niture and air of untidiness, then his eyes travelled to
the slim, defiant figure in the window.

If he went now, he knew that he was leaving her to
Delia and Delia's life and friends ; if he stayed. . . .
He took a step forward.

"Hazel." But she might not have heard for all sign
she gave, and Barry went out, shutting the door after
him.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY' WICKLOW 155

Hazel went back to the fire and crouched down by it,
shivering with excitement.

He had gone, he had done with her— done with her.
She moistened her dry lips; they were burning. She
looked down at her hands and was surprised to see how
they shook.

She leaned over and poked the fire into a blaze; the
flames shot upwards cheerily.

She held her hands to them; she was chilled to the
bone. Barry had gone. It was the one thought in her
brain.

"I don't care," she said aloud. The soimd of the
words frightened her.

"I don't care at all," she said again.

She rose to her feet and went over to the glass. She
looked at herself for a moment curiously.

She knew she had changed ; but she wondered a little
that Barry had been so angry to see it.

She had thought he would like her clothes, and the
new way she did her hair. She had copied Delia as nearly
as she could. Delia had said that men liked women to
be smart, Delia had said a lot of other things as well;
a lot of things about Barry that had added to the wall of
ice round his wife's heart.

She knew now that it was not only in appearance that
she had changed. She felt like another woman. The g^rl
she had been when she loved and married Barry Wicklow
had died and left in her place a hard woman years older,
who spent the days looking on — on ! and refusing to look
back.

In her heart she blamed Barry for her mother's death.
She blamed him for everything. Sometimes, lying awake
at night, she thought of ever3rthing he had ever said to
her, and marvelled bitterly tfiat she had ever believed
in him.

Delia had told her that men are better actors than
women. Delia had told her that Barry was the sort of
man who made love to every woman he met.

156 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

"Why, there was a girl at the last show I was in/' she
began, but Hazel had stopped her. "Don't, don't!" she
had begged. "I don't want to hear any more."

The world had toppled in pieces about her during the
last fortnight.

She smiled faintly, meeting the look of her reflected
eyes. She was sorry for the girl who had loved Barry
Wicklow.

"Men like go-ahead girls," had been another of Delia's
remarks. "Barry's a man about town, my dear; he'd
have been rusted out if he'd stayed in your sleepy hollow
another week. You'd have to have bucked up if you
wanted to keep him," she laughed reminiscently. "You
ought to have seen him at that supper party where I first
met him," she went on. "When I went home in the small
hours of the morning, your Barry Wicklow was dancing
an Irish jig with Topsy St. Helier on one of the tables.
Goodness ! don't look so shocked ! He'd like you a jolly
sight better if you were the same sort of woman, and
don't you forget it."

Delia really believed what she was saying; she was
firmly convinced that the fact that Barry had got tired
of Hazel was at the bottom of all this trouble, that he
had found her too slow and countrified, and that he had
never really meant to marry her.

She had made Hazel believe it as well.

She had artfully impressed it upon the younger girl's
mind till now all Hazel longed for was to be like Delia —
to be as smart as she was, to be able to stay out all night
and not have a headache in the morning. To get to like
smoking cigarettes and drinking champagne, and, most of
all, to go on the stage ! She had a vague sort of idea that
if Barry could see her across the footlights he would
love her again, that he would come hanging round the
stage door to see her in the way so eloquently described
by Delia.

"A man never cares for a woman he is too sure of,"
had been another of Delia's little poisoned shafts. Hazel

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 157

had kept it firmly before her during her interview with
Barry that afternoon. She believed that if she held him
at arm's length he would some day want her again. She
clung to the belief piteously as she looked at her reflec-
tion in the glass. She made up her mind that she would
go on — ^go on — ^no matter what it cost her. After all,
there was no longer a choice left to her ; Joe Daniels had
cast her oflF, Cleave Farm was closed to her, and now
Barry had done with her, too.

"I'll make him sorry," she told herself fiercely. "Oh,
I'll make him sorry."

She did not realise that the easiest road to find is some-
times the one which we have carefully prepared for the
feet of another.

CHAPTER XXI

"Tt yTY word!" said Delia.

I y I She paused on the threshold of Hazel's little
bedroom and looked at her cousin with wide eyes.

Hazel was dressed for the supper party with Hulbert ;
she was standing in front of the small dressing table
eyeing herself anxiously.

She turned as Delia spoke. "Shall I do ? Do you think
I shall do ?" she asked doubtfully.

Delia walked round Hazel with slow criticism.

"I'm sorry I ever gave you that dress," she said at last
frankly. "I never knew it looked so decent. What in
the world have you done to it?"

Hazel flushed. "I only altered it a little; it was too
big. Does it really look nice?"

Delia sat down on the bed and nodded.

"Never thought you had it in you," she said frankly.
She looked the younger girl up and down. "You ought
to fetch them properly," she added.

Hazel flushed. Perhaps she did not know how pretty
she was looking in the flimsy black frock that Delia had
given to her with the remark that it was an awful rag,
but that she might be able to make something out of it.

It suited Hazel's fair hair and delicate skin to perfec-
tion. She looked very young and slim in the full skirt
cut short above her little feet and ankles, her pretty hair
loosely arranged. There was a short silence, then Delia
rose.

"Here — 1*11 lend you my pearls ; they're not real, but
they're not half a bad imitation, and they'll just finish you
off. No; you need not be so grateful, my dear," she
added tartly as Hazel began to thank her. "If we pull

158

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 159

this off with Greaves I'm going to get a tidy sum out of
the mean old brute. He thinks you're a find, and, if you
are, it'll be up to him to give me something handsome —
see?"

She went off without waiting for a reply. She came
back with the pearl necklace, which she clasped round
Hazel's throat.

"There, that puts fifty pounds on to the frock," she
said, with a nod of satisfaction. "And with the roses
Laurie Hulbert sent — ^where are they?"

"In the other room."

"Well, hurry and put them on, or he'll be here before
we're ready, and he hates being kept waiting."

Hazel obeyed eagerly. She was very, excited: her
cheeks were flushed and her eyes shone. Her hands shook
with eagerness as she fastened Hulbert's roses into the
filmy folds at her waist.

It was wonderful what a difference dress made to
anybody, she thought, and then, with a sharp pang, she
wondered what her mother would say if she could see
her!

Hazel never thought about her mother if she could
help it. She belonged to the sweet memories which she
was trying to bury deep away, out of sight, with her love
for Barry Wicklow.

Delia's philosophy had helped her here. Delia had
pointed out how unutterably foolish it was to think about
things that made you unhappy. What was the good of
it? One only got old and ugly if one moped and shed
tears. Therefore, why do it?

"There isn't anybody in the world I'd shed a tear
for," she declared flippantly. "There isn't anybody
worth it."

But Hazel wiped some tears away now as she looked
down at Hulbert's sweet-scented roses. They had taken
her back so acutely to the summer and Cleave Farm.
Just such red roses grew on the walls of the old farm
and poked their scented heads in at the window of the

160 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

little room where she had slept for so many happy years.

"All serene ?" Delia demanded at the door. She twisted
and turned for Hazel's inspection. She was wearing a
wonderful garment of shot green and gold, with a filet
of the same colours in her hair.

"Is this skirt too long, do you think?" she queried
anxiously.

Hazel thought it was not long enough, but she did
not like to say so.

"You look lovely," she said.

Delia beamed. "And you don't look half so bad/' she
answered condescendingly. "Whoever would have
thought my old black frock would turn out like that?
Hazel, I'd give a fiver if that Barry Wicklow of yours
could walk in to-night and see you and me having supper
with Laurie and Greaves ! It'd be worth a fiver to see
his face ; I suppose he's never seen you in evening tog^,
eh?"

"I've never had any before."

"Well, you ought to get plenty after to-night," Delia
said bluntly. "There's the bell, now smile and look
pleasant."

But Hazel merely looked terribly nervous when the
door opened, and Hulbert was announced; she shook
hands with him and tried to thank him for the roses, but
he cut her short. "Pooh ! That's nothing ! Glad you're
wearing them ; I'll send you some more to-morrow." He
held her hand rather unnecessarily long; when presently
they went down to his car he rather pointedly addressed
his conversation to her.

Delia did not mind ; she had a little scheme maturing in
her brain as she sat silent in the comer of Hulbert's lux-
urious car.

Supposing this little cousin of hers "caught on" — ^as
she called it ! Delia's hopes soared high ; after all, it was
entirely due to her that Hulbert and Greaves had ever
met Hazel ; it would be worth their while- to stump up.

Delia knew her own limitations. She knew that noth-

«-1

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 161 ,

ing very alluring in the way of fame lay in wait for
her; therefore, she was determined to make hay while
the sun shone in any other direction.

Hazel had told her nothing of Barry's last visit, she
imagined that he was still in blissful ignorance of the fact
that she had let him down so badly ; if he ever found out
she meant to tell him that a tenner a week had been no
good to her, and that he ought to have known it.

When the car stopped she slipped a friendly hand
through Hazel's arm. She said she was dying of hunger ;
she told Hulbert she hoped he had seen to it that the
champagne was iced.

'And where is Jimmy Greaves ?" she asked.
'We're meeting him inside," Hulbert answered.

An attentive waiter conducted them to a reserved
table. Hazel looked round her with wide eyes. She had
never seen such a room in all her life; the many lights
and the masses of flowers awed her. She stood quite
still till Delia touched her hand.

"Sit down, child ! There's no extra charge."

She obeyed rather helplessly; she found herself next
to Hulbert, with an empty chair on the other side.

Delia was drawing off her gloves and chattering away
about the supper. She repeated that she was dying of
hunger; she asked Hulbert if he had ordered oysters.

"Good evening !" said a voice.

Hazel looked up, startled, to find Norman Wicklow
beside her.

The colour rushed to her cheeks; she could find no
words. He took the empty chair beside her.

Delia hailed him rapturously.

"Where have you been hiding all this time ?" she asked.
She leaned her elbows on the table and looked at him
with bright eyes. "And how's the ankle ? We heard all
about it."

"It's nearly well," Norman answered. He looked
rather agitated. The sight of Hazel had set his pulses
racing and brought back his loss to him with a fresh

162 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

sense of desolation. "What are you doing here?" he
asked.

"We're waiting for Jimmy Greaves/' Delia told him.
"He's going to give Hazel a show in the autumn, you
know."

"Hazel!" Norman looked at her and quickly away
again. "Hazel going on the stage !"

"There's nothing settled," she told him, quickly. "And
I don't suppose I shall be any good at all."

"I should like to back my opinion against yours, Miss
Bentley," Hulbert answered. "Here comes Greaves."

A tall man with grey hair was coming down the room
towards them. He had a cheery, smiling face, and small,
very shrewd eyes. He shook hands with Hazel and
Delia, and clapped Hulbert on the back.

"And who asked you to butt in, Wicklow?" he de-
manded of Norman in pretended anger. "If you're
thinking of buzzing round the honey-pot, you're a bit
too soon, my boy." He glanced towards Hazel, mean-
ingly.

"Miss Bentley and I have known one another some
time," Norman answered, rather stiffly. "And I'm not
staying, don't worry! I only came over to say *How
do !' " He rose to his feet again. "I suppose I mustn't
ask questions."

"You may," Greaves told him, pleasantly.. "But they
won't be answered ; and I'm hungry. Where's that con-
founded waiter?"

Norman went away, and Greaves sat down. He talked
to Hazel a great deal. He asked her a hundred and one
questions. He told Delia to bring her along to his of-
fice in the morning.

"You say you can't sing, eh ?" he asked. "Well, we'll
try !"

He suddenly stopped talking business and set himself
to be entertaining.

Hazel thought he was a most delightful man. She
liked his boisterous laugh and the twinkle of his eyes.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 163

She forgot her sh)mess and laughed and chatted to him
eagerly. She did not notice that as soon as her glass
began to get empty he filled it up again. She felt very
happy and excited. When Delia took out her cigarette
case and began to smoke, Hazel declared that she would
smoke too.

She wished that Barry could walk in and see her; he
would realise then that he was not the only man who
had ever paid her attention. Greaves had drawn his
chair closer to hers ; he was leaning over the comer of
the table talking to her confidentially.

When, after the first puff or two, she let her cigarette
go out, he insisted that she relit it from his.

"I like to see a pretty woman smoke," he told her.
"You've no idea how charming you look."

It was all so different to what Barry had said. Hazel
remembered what a rage he had been in and how he had
torn the cigarette case from her hand.

The excitement fell from her; she sat silent, staring
down the long room. She felt cold and miserable all
at once ; she looked at Greaves and shivered ; there was
something about him that she did not like, after all, she
thought, timidly. She looked at Delia — 2l very flushed
and noisy Delia — and a sudden distaste of the whole
evening rose in her heart.

She wished she had not come; the room was hot and
noisy; the band made her head ache. Greaves was re-
filling her glass ; she laid her hand on his sleeve to check
him.

"Please, no more ! I don't want any more."

He covered her hand with his ; such a big, hot hand it
felt. Hazel drew her own sharply away.

Hardly knowing what she was doing, she pushed back
her chair and half rose.

"The room is so hot," she said confusedly, "I wish
we could go home, Delia."

But Delia paid no attention; she was telling Hulbert
something in a whisper and screaming with laughter.

164 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

"You don't want to go home," Greaves answered sooth-
ingly. "Why, we've only just begun the night." But
Hazel was not listening, she was looking past him down
the long room.

The door had just opened to admit some fresh comers.
Greaves swung round in his chair to see who it was that
was claiming Hazel's attention.

A woman in evening dress was walking up the room
between the tables, closely followed by a man. The
woman was Agnes Dudley — Greaves knew her by sight;
he had often seen her about with Barry Wicklow — and
the man ; he glanced at the man's big, rather lumbering
figure and careless face — it was Barry himself.

CHAPTER XXII

BARRY thought he had planned out his evening to a
nicety. After leaving his wife, he sought out
Greaves; he guessed that Greaves would know
where Hulbert was taking Hazel that night, and he had
not been wrong.

A diplomatic invitation to the manager to have dinner
with him had drawn the required information.
f "Should have been delighted," Greaves told Barry un-
suspectingly. "But the fact is, I've promised Hulbert
to meet him. He's got some new little girl in tow, and
he's very anxious for me to give her a trial run this
autumn."

"Ah, yes!" Barry's voice was even and disinterested.
"He told me something about it. Where are you dining ?"

Greaves told him unsuspectingly; he added that he
didn't suppose an)rthing would come of it ; but that Hul-
bert was a great friend of his.

"Anjrway, Hulbert thinks she's bound to be a success,"
Barry told him, calmly. "She's pretty enough."

Greaves raised his brows. "Oh, you know her, then ?"

There was the faintest possible pause before Barry
answered. "Yes — I've met her." He smiled grimly at
his own reply, recalling those days down at Cleave Farm.

He went away from Greaves, savage and smarting with
jealousy. He was determined to turn up at the restau-
rant to meet Hazel. It was only later that he thought he
would ask Agnes Dudley to go with him. Probably if
he had stopped to consider it for a moment he would not
have done anything so foolish. But with his usual buU-
at-the-gate impulsiveness it seemed to him a fine way of

i6s

166 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

showing Hazel he could amuse himself without her, quite
as well as she could amuse herself without him.

He went straight back to his rooms, and rang Agnes
up; he was quick to detect the little eagerness in her
voice.

"You, Barry ! Why I thought . . ." She stopped.

"I'm at a loose end," he told her, hurriedly. "Will you
let me take you out somewhere to supper ?"

He waited impatiently for her reply.

"Well — I should like to come. Will — ^will your wife
be with you ?"

Barry scowled into the receiver. "No, my wife will
not be with me," he said savagely.

He heard her say "Oh!" with soft amazement, and
wondered what she was thinking. Anyhow, it did not
matter ; he fixed up the time and meeting place before she
could change her mind and rang off.

He hoped savagely that Hazel would see him. He
hoped Agnes would be well turned out. He had often
heard it said that she was one of the best dressed women
in London.

But he felt painfully nervous as he waited in Mrs.
Dudley's drawing-room. It seemed ages since he had
been here. So much had happened since that last "good-
bye." He almost wished he had not come. What was
the use of re-opening the old friendship?

, He felt a helpless, trapped sort of sensation as he
looked round the familiar room. His own photograph
still stood on her desk, and Barry frowned. It was
strange how quickly a man could change; he felt some-
how ashamed of himself.

He turned his back on it and stood staring down into
the fire. He hoped she would not make things difficult
for him. He realised that it was going to be difficult to
take up the old thread of friendship with the memory of
the last meeting between them.

It seemed a long time before Mrs. Dudley came down.
She was beautifully dressed; Barry noticed that at once

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 167

She was wearing his favourite colour — ^bltre ; he noticed
that, too, and wondered if she had chosen it on puipose
to please him. He looked faintly embarrassed as he took
her hand.

"It's awfully good of you to say you will come — ^aw-
fully good."

"I wanted to come," she told him. She was clever
enough to keep all emotion from her voice. She drew
her hand away. "I have missed you," she said lightly.
"Where have you been hiding all this time?"

"All this time!" He echoed her words with a little
laugh. "Why, it's only a fortnight "

"So it is! It seems longer." She let him help her
into her coat. "And how is your wife ?" she asked him.

It was a question that was bound to come, he knew,
but he felt quite unprepared for it. He flushed up to
his eyes.

"Who told you I was matried?" he asked rather
shortly.

She hesitated. "I am not sure, I have heard it from
so many people, but I believe your cousin — Norman —
told me in the first place."

"He would," Barry said grimly.

She looked up at him.

"Barry! Is an)rthing the matter?"

Barry winced. "I'd much rather not talk about it, if
you don't mind. I made a hash of it, that's the truth.
You're bound to know sooner or later, so I may as well
tell you myself. We — she ... we agreed to dif-
fer — on our wedding-day. Don't think I blame her; it's
been my fault alone all along. She found out she didn't
care for me — and . . . and that's the end of it."

She did not know what to say, but her proud face
quivered for a moment.

"So we won't talk about it if you don't mind," Barry
said more easily. "We'll just have a good* time and for-
get everything else, shall we ?"

168 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

"I-m sorry, Barry,'' she said gently, though she kept
her face averted. "I'm — so sorry."

Barry swallowed hard. "Oh, well!" he said with an
eflFort. "It's my own fault, I deserved it." He hmiched
his shoulders. "There's a taxi waiting," he said with a
change of voice ; and they went out together.

Agnes Dudley was a clever woman. She had heard
all sorts of stories and rumours about Barry Wicklow's
marriage, but that it had ended so suddenly and com-
pletely she had not the faintest idea. She carefully avoided
all references to the past in her conversation, and, as
they drove through London, she treated him in the old
friendly, aflFectionate way. She really cared for him, and
she was more than happy to be with him, no matter what
were the circumstances.

She felt a little thrill of apprehension as they reached
their destination. There would be sure to be many peo-
ple in the restaurant who knew them both. She wondered
what would be said of her and of Barry, but apparently
Barry was unconcerned, and she took courage.

After all, if he did not care, she need not. It was her
fault he had rushed off into his disastrous marriage;
the least she could do now was to give him the friend-
ship he wanted.

Her colour rose a little as they walked down the
crowded room. She did not look to the right or left;
she gave a little sigh of relief when at last they reached
their table.

"Quite comfortable?" Barry asked her. "Not too near
the band?"

"Oh, no — it's very nice." She began to draw off her
long gloves. She and Barry Wicklow had dined here
scores of times together. She felt as if the last two
weeks had been just a bad dream from which she had
now wakened.

She met his eyes and smiled nervously.

"There are a lot of people I know here, Barry," she
said.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 169

"Are there?" There was a note of defiance in his
voice. There was only one person whom he hoped to
see. He glanced round the room, and in that moment
he saw her — sitting just a stone's throw from him with
Greaves and Hulbert on either side of her. She was
looking at him, and there was a sort of appeal in her
wild-rose face; she was very flushed, and her eyes were
somehow distressed. Barry's heart gave a big thump,
but he restrained himself with a mighty effort and merely
bowed formally.

Hazel hardly acknowledged him. She had sunk back
in her chair, and Greaves was bending close to her, speak-
ing in an undertone.

Barry had chosen his seat so that he could look at that
other table without turning his head. He began to talk
to Agnes; he hardly knew what he said; he was speak-
ing quite at random; his eyes turned again and again
to Hazel.

Once he heard her laugh — a shrill nervous laugh that
somehow hurt him. Once he saw her lift her glass in
response to a toast from Hulbert. It was champagne they
were all drinking, of course, he told himself savagely.
He wondered what Hazel's mother would say if she
could see her now ; what Joe Daniels would say.

They would blame him for this, of course. They
would say it was all his fault that Hazel sat there with
that scared, reckless look in her eyes. Well,' let them
— ^who cared! He had done his best, and she had re-
fused to allow him to help her. Once he met Delia's
modcing eyes. She knew how he was feeling beneath all
his forced composure, and the knowledge amused her.

He hardly touched his dinner. Mrs. Dudley was puz-
zled at the sudden change in him. He had seemed pleased
and happy enough to be with her at first; but now he
was pale and abstracted. Once or twice he seemed not
to hear when she spoke to him.

Presently she touched his arm.

170 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

"Laurie Hulbert is over there," she said. She had only
just seen the four at the other table.

"Who is he with, Barry?"

Barry roused himself with an eflfort.

"The tall man is Greaves, the theatrical manager. He's
worth a pot of money."

"You know him ?"

"Oh, yes!"

"And — and the two girls?"

Barry kept his eyes averted.

"The elder one is on the stage," he answered evasively.

Mrs. Dudley looked across the room.

"The one with the fair hair is very pretty," she said
at last. "Don't you think she is very pretty, Barry?"

He forced himself to glance over at Hazel.
Yes," he said. "Oh, yes."

I think she has a sweet face," Mrs. Dudley went on;
she was suflFiciently handsome herself to be able to ad-
mire good looks in other women. "Do you know her,
Barry? She is looking at you now."

Barry forced himself to answer.

"Yes — I know her ... at least . . . yes, I
know her," he said incoherently. He turned in his chair.
"Where's that waiter?" he said irritably. "The attention
is something shocking h^re to-night."

His nerves were at snapping point. He wondered
if Agnes knew who Hazel was, and was deliberately
speaking about her.

Greaves had risen from his chair; he took Hazel's
cloak from the waiter. Barry could hear Delia's shrill
voice distinctly across the room; she was laughing im-
moderately.

Were they going? Barry almost held his breath; he
felt that nothing in the world could prevent him from
getting up and following Hazel if he saw her leave in
Sie company of those men« The blood was hammering
in his temples.

A moment dragged by then Hazel came slowly down

MARRIAGE bp BARRY WICKLOW 171

the room, followed by Greaves. He was walking very
close to her. Barry clenched his hands under cover of
the table.

They passed quite close to where he sat. Greaves laid
a hand on Barry's shoulder in careless greeting. "Hullo,
sonnie !"

Barry said "hullo."

He looked round for Delia; she was not attempting
to follow; she and Hulbert still sat at the table talking
and laughing together. Hazel was going alone with
Greaves !

They were at the door now; someone opened it for
them, and just as they passed through it and out of
sight Barry saw Greaves take Hazel's hand and draw
it through his arm.

The next moment the door had swung to, and they
had gone.

CHAPTER XXIII

BARRY never knew how he got through the re-
mainder of the evening. He had a vague recollec-
tion of finishing his (hnner somehow, of drinking
a great deal more than was good for him, of answering
Agnes Dudley's attempts at conversation wildly and at
random, and of being infinitely relieved when at last she
said she thought it was time for her to go home.

She kept looking at Barry in a puzzled way. He had
been inexplicable to her all the evening, when they were
driving away again his almost noisy excitement fell from
him. He leaned back in a comer of the taxi with a
deep sigh.

"Tired?" she asked.

"No — I've got a brute of a head." He let down the
window for the cool air to fan his hot face.

Agnes spoke suddenly. •

"Barry — ^may I ask you a question?"

He roused himself with a start.

"A thousand if you like!" he said with forced flip-
pancy.

She hesitated ; the light from a street lamp they were
passing gave her a momentary glimpse of his face; a
hard unhappy face it looked.

She laid her hand lightly on his arm.

"Barry — ^where is your wife?"

She could feel that his whole body stiffened beneath
her touch; for a moment he did not answer; then he
laughed mirthlessly.

"If you mean where is she at this moment, I'm blessed
if I loiow. If you mean where does she live . . .

172

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 173

well, the last time I saw her she was sharing a flat with
her cousin."

"You mean that — that you don't see her — often?"

"I mean that if she had her way we should never meet
again."

"And — ^if you had your way?" she asked. There was
a touch of suppressed eagerness in her voice.

Barry did not answer. He knew that it was impos-
sible to tell this woman that if he had his way he would
not be here now with her, that he would be somewhere
— anywhere — with the woman he loved, and whom he
had married.

But sometimes silence is more eloquent than words,
and Agnes knew by instinct that Barry loved his wife,
as he had never loved anyone else.

She leaned back in the darkness and closed her eyes.

He had only come to her to-night because he was un-
happy, because he had dreaded his own company, because
he had once told her, he and she had always been such
good "pals."

Her lips twisted into a little wry smile; men were so
odd in their ideas of what a woman could stand. They
so calmly took it for granted that because they could
offer friendship in place of love, the woman to whom
it was offered could accept it calmly and gratefully.

A great desire to see Barry's wife seized her. She
had heard so many stories about her, and had been wise
enough to discredit them all ; she opened her eyes.

"I should like to meet your wife, Barry," she said sud-
denly.

He turned with pathetic eagerness.

"Would you ? I wish you could — I should like her to
have a friend like you. She's had an awfully dull life,
poor little girl ; and nothing of — of all this is her fault,
Agnes ; I brought it entirely on myself. I hope you'll
not think it has been her fault in any way."

She did not answer, and he went on —

'She's so young — not twenty-one yet, and she knows

«(

174 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

absolutely nothing of the world; and — and her mother
died the day we were married." He stopped with desp'
lating memory of that fateful afternoon.

If Mrs. Bentley had lived, things might have been all
right, he was thinking, but what was the good of look-
ing back — of thinking what might have been? One
could only look on — on — surely there must be something
pleasant awaiting somewhere in the future.

The taxi stopped at Mrs. Dudley's house, and Barry
got out.

"It's been awfully good of you to spend the evening
with me," he said; he pressed her hand hard for a
moment. "I'm afraid I haven't been very cheerful
company."

"I've enjoyed it," she answered. "It has been quite
like old times." Afterwards she wondered what made
her say that, seeing that all the evening she had felt as
if she were out with a stranger; just a man who looked
at her with Barry Wicklow's eyes and spoke to her in
Barry Wicklow's voice, and yet who was not Barry at
all.

"I — suppose you won't come in?" she asked hesitat-
ingly.

"Not to-night — I won't come in to-night; but we shall
meet again soon."

"I shall always be pleased to see you," she told him
gently, though she knew as he turned away that of all the
many things she had hoped for from this evening, none of
them would ever come true. Barry was lost to her for
ever.

She stood at the open door for some minutes looking
into the darkness where Barry had disappeared. What
sort of a woman could his wife be, she asked herself,
that she did not want him — did not care for him at all ?

Barry went straight to the club. It was a sort of
obsession with him now that he must find Greaves and
hear about Hazel. It was not very late yet — only half-
past eleven — but the club was almost deserted. He wan-

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 175

dered about aimlessly for some time, then went out again.
Nobody had seen Greaves, nobody knew where he was
likely to be found.

Barry went round to Delia's flat. There would be
nobody there either, he knew, but he walked up and
down for some time in the darkness.

Every time a taxicab rounded the comer he was sure
Hazel must be in it. A dozen times his heart seemed to
stand still with apprehension, but the time dragged away
and she did not come.

He stopped under a lamp-post and looked at his
watch; nearly one o'clock. He had been waiting over
an hour ! He walked back again past the house.

A sleepy policeman at the corner bade him good-night.
As he stood in the darkness staring up at the windows
of Delia's flat a mongrel cat came and rubbed its thin
body against his legs, purring rustily.

Barry hated cats as a rule, but to-night he stooped
and stroked the poor creature's head ; he was sufficiently
miserable to appreciate even such humble overtures of
friendship.

Half-past one — a quarter to two . . . two o'clock !
Barry was dead tired, but he was not conscious of the
fact. He meant to stay there all night till he knew that
Hazel was home. His head was splitting. He took his
hat off and ran his fingers through his hair.

Back to the corner again. The policeman had gone
and the road was very still ; now and then a distant horn
from a taxi broke the silence.

Half-past two ! Barry clenched his hands. He had been
out all night himself scores of times, had gone home
cheerfully with the milk and thought nothing of it, but
this was different. He thought of the early hours down
at Cleave Farm. By ten o'clock at latest everyone was
in bed and asleep. He swung round once more and
walked beck down the street.

He would get even with Delia for this. He would take
Hazel away from her by main force. He would . . .

176 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

A taxi turned the comer of the street and came towards
him. It slowed down a little, and he heard the driver
calling to his fare:

"Which number did you say, miss ?"

A woman's voice answered with shrill impatience :

"Thirty-one! Why can't you remember?"

Barry was across the road in a flash. That was
Delia's voice. She flung open the door almost before
the taxi stopped and got out. She was alone.

Barry stood back in the shadows while she paid the
driver. He heard her haggling about the fare and heard
the impatient tap-tap of her high-heeled shoe on the
pavement. Then the taxi drove off and Barry stepped
forward.

"Where is my wife?" he asked.

Delia screamed. She swung round, saw who it was,
and broke out angrily:

"What are you doing, hanging about here? I'm fed
up with you. For heaven's sake take your wife, and
leave me in peace — if you can get her," she added nastily.
"I don't know where she is any more than you do — she
went oflf with Greaves • . . I'm not her keeper . . ."
She tried to evade him, but Barry caught her arm and
held it in a grip of steel.

"Where is she? I'm not going till I know — ^and you're
not going either."

She stamped her foot at him.

"You've no right to keep me here; how dare you!
You're nothing but a great bully! No wonder Hazel's
scared to death of you."

"I don't want any sermons from you," Barry said
savagely. "Tell me where she is — and you can go, do
you hear?"

"I don't know where she is. She's not a child; she
can look after herself."

"I've paid you to look after her," he broke out.

She laughed shrilly.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 177

"A tenner a week! Lord! If you think I'm going
to waste my time hauling Hazel at my apron strings all
day for a tenner a week, you're mistaken/' she told him
flatly. "I don't know where she is, she's got beyond me
already." She wrenched her arm free and ran up the
steps to the house. She looked back at him mockingly.
"I should advise you to apply to Mr. Greaves for the
latest information."

Barry's face flamed, all the blood in his body seemed
to have rushed to his head, for the moment he was blind
and deaf with rage. He sprang up the steps after her
and caught her by both arms.

"By God!" he said hoarsely, "if you don't tell me
where she is I'll kill you— I'll . . ."

She cowed away from him; she began to whimper.

"You're hurting me • . . let me go . . ."

He relaxed his hold a little; he was breathing hard
and fast.

"If an)rthing has happened to her," he began hoarsely.

She looked up at him angrily, but something in the
expression of his eyes checked the words she had been
going to say — she shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know what you want to make all this fuss
about," she said more quietly. "Hazel came home ages
ago ; she's been in bed and asleep for hours."

A light over the door shone full on her face as she
spoke, on the hard, angry eyes and scornfully smiling
mouth.

Her arms were aching where he had gripped them ; she
would never forgive him for this. She quite realised
that he was a sufficiently strong man to spoil all her little
plans. She made up her mind that, come what might,
she would flght him to the end.

She cared nothing for him or what he wished. She
hated him because he had always been indiflferent to her.
She loved admiration and flattery, and Barry had never
been more than ordinarily civil. Well, she would pay

178 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

him out. Ten pounds a week was nothing when com-
pared with all she hoped to get out of Greaves. The
knowledge made her feel almost pleasant again.

"If you don't believe me, you can come up and see
for yourself if she is home or not," she said more gra-
ciously.

"Well, I don't believe you, so I will," Barry answered
flatly.

The lift had stopped running and they had to go up
the long flights of stairs. Delia was breathless and pant-
ing before they reached the top. She said ang^ly that
she hated living in such a hole and that she didn't mean
to stay there all her life.

She unlocked the door with her latchkey and flung it
open. She crossed the narrow passage and kicked open
the door of the gaudy little drawing-room. Barry had
never seen her in such a temper before. He had always
considered her an amiable sort of girl. He followed in
silent disgust.

She switched on the light and went forward; then
she stopped with a short laugh.

"There's the sleeping beauty," she said cynically.

Barry glanced across the room; Hazel was lying on
the couch with the yellow cushions fast asleep. She still
wore the frock he had seen her in that evening; the red
roses were all crushed and dying; her hair was tumbled
anyhow about her face.

Delia looked at him mockingly.

"There she is," she said again. "Now are you satis-
fied ?"

She dropped her silken coat to the floor, kicking it out
of her way as she passed him and went on to her own
room. Barry heard her banging about in there, as he
stood gazing down at Hazel.

She looked so young, such a child ! And suddenly all
the anger and bitterness he had felt against her seemed
to die from his heart. After all, it had been his fault;
once she had loved him and trusted him, would have

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 179

loved him and trusted him still had he played the game.

He glanced toward Delia's room. The door was half
closed; he went a little closer to the couch where his wife
lay sleeping and, bending, kissed her softly.

She never moved; he felt warm breath against his
cheek for an instant, it seemed such a long, long time
since he last kissed her. Then he went away and down
the dark stone staircase again to the street.

Delia heard him go ; she came to the door of her room
and listened; she had thrown off her smart frock and
had got into a loose gown. She had taken down her hair,
and was smoking a cigarette ; when she knew Barry had
gone she bolted the outer door, came back to where
Hazel lay asleep and woke her with no very gentle hand.

Hazel sat up with a little frightened breafli ; she rubbed
her eyes, and stared at Delia sleepily.

"What's the matter? Is an)rthing the matter? What
time is it?"

"Nothing's the matter, and it's nearly breakfast-time,"
Delia answered disagreeably. "What time did you come
in? How long have you been here?"

"I came straight home when we left the restaurant.
My head ached." She looked away from Delia's hard
eyes. "I hate champagne," she said petulantly.

Delia said "Humph!" She sat down in an armchdr
and looked at Hazel critically.

"What did you do with Jimmy ?" she asked.

"Nothing — he just saw me home and went away."

"And you've been here ever since?"

"Yes." Hazel flushed uncomfortably. "What do you
mean?" she asked.

Delia flung her cigarette firewards; she had hardly
taken half-a-dozen puflFs.

"I don't mean anything," she said crossly. "Are you
going to his office in the morning?"

"Yes— at half-past ten."

Hazel unfastened the dead roses from her frock and
looked at them rather sadly.

180 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

"You saw that precious husband of yours there to-
night, of course," Delia said presently.

"Yes." There was a little catch in Hazel's voice. After
a moment. "Who was that he was with ?" she asked.

Delia was only too delighted to be able to tell her;
she had heard all about Agnes Dudley from Hulbert.

"It's the woman he was engaged to before he knew
you," she said. "Frightfully smart, wasn't she? Pots
of money; they say she's paid Barry Wicklow's debts
half-a-dozen times."

Hazel did not answer; did not raise her eyes.

"He's jolly soon consoled himself," Delia said again
viciously. "You take my advice and do the same thing,
my dear."

Hazel forced a smile to her lips.

Barry is quite welcome to do what he likes," she said.
I suppose you didn't speak to him to-night ?"

Speak to him!" Delia shrilled. "Is it likely? Bless
your heart and soul, he was far too much taken up with
Mrs. Dudley to look at me." She yawned, stretching her
arms languidly over her head. "I should cut him out
once and for all, if I were you," she said. "Come on —
I'm going to bed."

Hazel sat staring down at the dead roses in her lap.
They had lived such a little, little while, but they had
been very sweet. It was like her own short happiness
with Barry.

And now — she thought of Greaves' admiring eyes and
whispered compliments that evening, and a little shiver
went through her.

She had got to see him again in the morning; she
had got to smile and pretend to like his too familiar
ways. Delia had told her that it was a necessary means
to an end. Delia was so sure that she was going to make
a success.

And yet, sitting there in the silence of the little flat,
it seemed to Hazel that the only thing in all the world
she wanted was to wake up and find that she had dreamt

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 181

these endless weeks — ^to wake up and find herself back
in the little bedroom at Qeave Farm, with her mother
alive and well, and grumpy Joe Daniels looking at her
with kind eyes; and Barry . . .

"Put out that light and go to bed," Delia called irri-
tably from the room.

Hazel obeyed hurriedly. She was glad that the in-
terruption had come just in time. She did not want to
think of Barry any more.

CHAPTER XXIV

HULBERT was surprised at the friendliness Barry
evinced for him during the days that followed. He
had never cared particularly for Barry, and on
more than one occasion they had had a few words, but
now, all at once, he began to change his opinion.

Barry could be quite a decent chap when he liked.
Barry was quite good company when he cared to exert
himself; the two men were seen about together a great
deal; Barry declared himself very interested in what
Hulbert was doing.

"You're a chap with so many irons in the fire," he
said once. "I can't think how you manage to keep 'em
all going."

Hulbert was very open to flattery; he puffed out his
chest and smiled amiably.

"Oh, I don't know," he said, complacently. "It takes
a bit of doing — ^but Jack of all trades is my motto — ^be a
bit of everything and you're all right." He took Barry
by the lapel of his coat. "Jimmy and I have got a fine
thing coming along," he said confidentially. "Little
Hazel, you know ; she's shaping properly I can tell you.
We'll make London sit up in the autumn, my boy."

Barry had hard work to keep himself under control.

"Oh, so she's shaping well, is she?" he said, care-
lessly. "What are you doing with her?"

"Oh, just a vaudeville turn, you know — a song — and
a bit of a dance. But it's her face and her youth that'll
get her over the footlights, my boy. Have you seen her
lately?"

Barry answered truthfully that he had not.

''Well, you wouldn't know • her," he was told em-

182

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 183

phatically. "Greaves handed her over to a first-class
woman — clothes and all the turn-out top hole! You
wouldn't know her!"

Barry nodded. "Is she — ^is she still living with her
cousin?" He knew that she was, but he had to say
something.

"Oh, yes ; she's still there — for the present." Hulbert
dug Barry in the ribs and laughed immoderately.

^'Greaves pays Delia to have her, of course; she's a
Shylock, that woman, as cute as you make 'em. She
made old Jimmy stump up properly for the introduction,
and all the rest of it. I've a great respect for Delia, you
know," he added. "She's a business woman."

"She's a woman I hate," said Barry. He spoke with-
out thinking; he coloured angrily at his own impulsive-
ness.

Hulbert looked surprised.

"She said the same thing about you only last night,
he said. "I forgot what made us mention you . .
He hesitated. "Oh, I know — ^that cousin of yours was
there — Norman ! By .the way, he's always hanging round
little Hazel, and I remarked how different you were,
you and he, as you are, old boy — and Delia said you were
the one man she had ever met that she couldn't stand.
Odd you should say the same thing about her."

Barry did not think it was odd at all.

"Anything else complimentary said about me?" he
asked stiffly, after a moment.

Hulbert shrugged his shoulders.

"No — ^nothing; but — I hope you won't mind my ask-
ing you, old man, but is it true that you're going to get
your marriage put aside — ^annulled, don't they call it?
I've never liked to ask you before; it was a nine days'
wonder to us, you know I I always thought that you and
Mrs. Dudley . • ." He hesitated-

Barry raised his eyes slowly.

"Who told you?" he asked. "About my marriage
being annulled, I mean?"

184 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

Hulber^Tubbed his chin.

"I really forget — unless ... oh, of course, it was
little Hazd ... she told us." He smiled reminis-
cently. "She seemed to know all about it, too/' he
added.

Barry got up and walked over to the window. He
looked rather white, though there was no emotion in his
voice when he answered.

"It's very kind of Miss Bentley to be so interested in
my affairs, but she's mistaken. There is no question,
and never has been, of my marriage being annulled. Per-
haps youll tell anybody who mentions it to you again."

Hulbert looked tmcomfortable.

"Oh, certainly, dear boy, certainly," he said. "No of-
fence meant, but you know how people talk! I'm very
sorry about the whole affair. Of course, I don't know
the lady."

He hesitated, as if expecting Barry to say something,
but he was disappointed, and he wandered away leaving
Barry alone.

He stood by the window looking into the street dully.
He cotdd not for the life of him tmderstand how it was
that nobody seemed to know that Hazel was his wife.
He supposed that she must have taken great pains to
keep the fact a secret; no doubt, Norman and Delia were
both in the conspiracy.

Of course, had he liked he could himself have pro-
claimed the fact from the housetops, but at the mo-
ment there seemed nothing to be gained by doing so.

He knew that Hazel was constantly with Hulbert and
Greaves; he had heard a great deal of talk of the new
star that was to shine in the vaudeville heavens before
long. It turned him cold to think of Hazel living amongst
the paint and powder and artificiality of the stage. It
made him sick to hear her name for ever on Hidbert's
lips, and to know that he himself was powerless to con-
trol her actions in any way.

He hardly knew how he got through life. It was just

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 185

one long nightmare. Norman and he never ♦met, and
Norman's father took good care to keep out of the way.

He had seen Agnes Dudley once or twice, but now
he, too, had realised the futility of trying to keep up the
old friendship. There was a constraint between them
which neither could break down.

Another week dragged miserably by; Barry hated
London; he wondered that he had ever thought it the
finest place on earth. He spent the days wandering
from his rooms to the club and back again.

It was strange that he had never caught a glimpse of
Hazel, and he could learn very little from Hulbert, though
he was always talking about her.

Then one afternoon, when Barry was mouching dis-
piritedly across the Park, he came face to face with his
uncle.

It was too late for the elder man to turn back, or he
would certainly have done so ; he was red and agitated
as he greeted Barry.

"Well, my boy, I was wondering what had become of
you."

Barry ignored the proffered hand.

"I am sure you were," he said with sarcasm, "seeing
that you've done your best to avoid me."

Mr. Wicklow tried to laugh.

"Come, come, we're not going to quarrel, are we ?" he
asked. "I stood by my share of the bargain ; I sent you a
handsome cheque; it's your look-out if you chose to re-
turn it."

"You told Norman the whole rotten story," Barry
said with violence. "You've let me in the cart properly
with everyone. I hope you're satisfied."

"Norman insisted ; he raved and swore."

Barry shrugged his shoulders.

"He behaved as I might have expected; he's a thor-
ough outsider ; it's the last time that you need ever come
to me to get him out of a scrape."

Mr. Wicklow said nothing.

186 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

"Of course, you know my wife refuses to live with
me," Barry went on savagely. "Or perhaps you don't
know. I've been made a laughing stock of all round;
that's what comes of doing as you asked me."

Mr. Wicklow frowned.

"Well, you didn't do it very successfully," he said
sharply. "From all accounts, Norman is going on just the
same way. Only now he's dancing attendance at the heels
of your wife instead of at the heels of a single woman.
He's always with her. I don't know what the devil
you're made of to stand by and allow it. Heavens above !
What did you marry the girl for, if you didn't want her?
I never asked you to carry things so far as that."

"If Norman says he's always with my wife, he's a
liar!" Barry said, shortly. "She's sharing a flat with her
cousin — a girl named Delia Bentley ; a flat in South Ken-
sington, and I know thundering well Delia wouldn't
have Norman hanging round all day long. She's got
no time for him."

"You may think so, but I know different. Your wife
isn't living with her cousin at all ; they quarrelled some
time ago. Oh, don't glare at me like that, boy ! I know
what I'm talking about. Lord above ! I've paid enough
money to have an eye kept on Norman; he's a weak-
minded young fool, and I never thought the day would
come when I should have to say that of my own son,"
he added grimly.

Barry stood like a man turned to stone.

"If this is true," he said, at last, "where is she, my
wife?"

Mr. Wicklow tried to temporise.

"I shouldn't have told you. It's no good making bad

blood, Barry. Listen to me ," but Barry had already

turned on his heel and was striding off over the grass.

He picked up a taxicab outside the Park and drove
straight to Delia's rooms. He told the man to wait for
him, and went up the stairs two at a time.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 187

Miss Bentley was out, the smart maid told him. She
was not expecting her back till the evening.

She looked at Barry interestedly. She knew almost
as much about him as he knew about himself. She had
no scruples whatever in reading her mistress's letters, or
listening at the door when she thought the conversation
might be interesting.

"And — Miss Hazel ?" Barry asked, hoarsely.

She dropped her eyes. She had been told not to say
anything about her mistress's business, she said, but if —
Barry gave her a sovereign, and a moment later he was
driving away to the address she had given him.

So it was true, after all! He was surprised that he
felt so little emotion; he sat forward in the taxi with
his head in his hands and tried to think. He dismissed
the cab and rang the bell at the outer door of the block
of flats.

They were very new flats, he could see, and looked ex-
pensive. Hazel's name was over a door on the ground
floor, and he stood for a moment staring at it with a
dread sinking at his heart.

Two months ago this girl had hardly been to London
. . . . the door opened, and he gave his name to the
maid ; a moment later he was crossing the little hall.

He heard himself announced.

"Mr. Wicklow, please, miss ..."

Hazel turned quickly from a desk where she sat writ-
ing, and their eyes met. He saw the blank look of dis-
may that crossed her face; the little flush that tinged
her cheeks as she rose.

"I thought it was Norman," she said.

Barry controlled his voice with difficulty. "I only
heard — ^this afternoon — ^that you had left your cousin. I
went there at once — ^to find where you were." He looked
round the room, it was expensively and tastefully fur-
nished. "Whose flat is this," he demanded. Her eyes
wavered.

188 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

"It's mine. Whose do you suppose it is? Delia and
I quarrelled; she told me that she did not want me any-
longer; besides — " she paused, and shrugged her shoul-
ders. "Anyway, I should not have stayed there, as you
were paying her to have me."

"She told you that ?"

"Yes."

His eyes wandered over her dainty little person; it
seemed impossible that this was the Hazel whom he
had watched making cakes and pastries in the kitchen
at Cleave Farm — the little girl in the blue pinafore who
had once loved him.

"And — and who is paying for you now?" he asked
her, hoarsely.

She raised her head with a touch of dignity.

"Mr. Greaves is paying me a salary. I am quite in-
dependent. He is going to send me on tour next month."

She spoke quietly, but there was a faint look of anxiety
in her eyes.

"He is not** said Barry.

She moved back a step.

"I don't know what you mean, but if you have come
here to bully me again, it's no use. I am going to live my
own life, I don't interfere with you, you are free to go
where you like and do what you like."

"And you are not** said Barry again. "And I shall
not leave this flat till I take you with me."

She cried out in anger.

"You must be mad — ^you've no right to come here at
all. I never meant you to know where I was. How
dare you speak to me like this !"

He went and looked down at her angry face with Un-
happy eyes.

"I know you hate the sight of me," he said thickly.
"But that doesn't matter. I love you, whether you be-
lieve it or not. I love you in spite of everything, as I
did in the past, and I shall always love you. That's why
I'm here, to prevent you from ruining your life."

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 189

There was a tragic silence when he had finished speak-
ing; Hazel's eyes were fixed on his face; she was
twisting her fingers together childishly; presently she
tried to laugh.

"It all sounds very fine, but. . . ." There was a
tap at the door.

"Mr. Hulbert," the maid announced, and the next mo-
ment Hulbert walked into the room.

He came forward with outstretched handS^

"Well, my dear," then he stopped short, saw Barry
and frowned. "You, Wicklow !"

Hazel came forward.

"Mr. Wicklow is just going — ^he only called to sec my
new flat."

Barry squared his shoulders.

"I am not going," he said obstinately, "unless you
come with me."

Hulbert flushed dully; he looked from one to the other
in heavy amazement.

"But — ^good heavens !" he began helplessly ; Barry cut
him short.

"I am sure you will understand, Hulbert, when I ex-
plain things a little," he said, controlling his voice with
an effort. "Possibly I owe you an apology for not hav-
ing told you before — ^that this lady — ^Hazel — is my
wife/'

it
It
((

CHAPTER XXV

AFTER the first moment of utter incredulity, Hul-
bert burst out laughing. "Oh, I say, Wicklow,"
he protested. "You must think of one better than
that ! You and Hazel married, that's good, that's . . ."
He broke off as Barry took a threatening step for-
ward; he was crimson in the face, and the veins stood
out like cords on his forehead.

"I tell you it's true," he said savagely. "And I'll thank
you not to call my wife by her Christian name."

It was no longer possible to disbelieve him. Hulbert
fell back, he looked at Hazel, he half held his hand to
her.

Is it true? Why don't you deny it?" he stammered.
Is it true that you are Wicklow's wife ?"
Yes." The monosyllable seemed forced from her.
Suddenly she gave a little cry of rage, she looked up at
Barry with passionate eyes. "I never wanted anyone to
know, you knew that. I'll never forgive you for this;
you seem to do all you can to make me hate you. Why
couldn't you have let me alone, I was quite happy." Barry
did not answer. He stood with his hands thrust in his
pockets, his jaw set in forbidding lines. There was a mo-
ment's unbroken silence, then Hulbert turned to the
door.

"Well, I'll say good-bye," he said constrainedly. "I
can only apologise for having intruded; had I known
the truth I should certainly have stayed away." Hazel
followed him.

"But it won't make any difference, how can it make
any difference? I'm just the same — I can't help being
married."

190

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 191

Barry laughed a grim sort of laugh with no real mirth
in it.

"You married me of your own free will," he said.

"Yes," she flashed back at him. "And you married
me because you were paid to. Why don't you tell Mr.
Hulbert the truth, that you did your best to ruin my life.
Surely you might leave me alone now, and give me a
chance to do something for myself."

Hulbert came back a step. Then he met Barry's eyes
and stopped. For a moment the two men looked at one
another silently; then Hulbert shrugged his shoulders
and, turning, walked out of the room.

Barry crossed to the door, which the other had left
open, and shut it with a little slam; then he came back
to Hazel. He took both her wrists, drawing her hands
down from her face.

"Now we're going to have this out between us,*' he
said. "It's no use going on like this any longer. You're
my wife; I've been a fool not to insist upon everybody
knowing it before. Hulbert will take care that every-
one hears about this, and if you leave this infernal place

and come to my rooms or anywhere else yoti like "

She wrenched herself free.

"I'm not going anywhere with you. I didn't want any-
one to know that I married you. I'm not proud of it.
I was just beginning to be happy again. I know I should
have made a success with Mr. Greaves; he won't want
me if he knows about you."

"Greaves is no good to you, and you'd be sick to death
of the stage in a month. You're not meant for that sort
of life. You may think you are, but I know better.
You're not the t3rpe of woman to be able to stand the
life. You'll be a thousand times happier with me."

Hazel stood quite still; and her silence encouraged
him.

He went on with passionate eagerness :

"Let us wipe out the past and start again. These last
^inreeks have just been a bad dream. I'll make you for-

192 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

get them; I'll teach you what happineds really meatis.
I love you so much."

She raised her eyes to his face.

"And I don't think I ever really loved you/' she said,
slowly.

"Hazel I" he cried out, as if she had struck him. "You
don't mean that ; you're just trying to hurt me. I won't
believe it. I know I deserve that you should punish mt,
but surely I've had enough."

"You were engaged to another woman when you came
to Bedmund "

"I was not."

'You've been out with her since — ^you've been out with
her many times since."

"That's your fault. I've been nearly mad ; you wouldn't
let me come near you. Take me back, Hazel, give me a
chaftce."

"No." Her voice was hard. "It's no use. I don't
want you any more. I want to live my own life ; I want
to be free. Mr. Gfeaves thinks I can make a name on
the stage — ^it'5 what I've wanted all my life."

"You satid once that all you wanted was to be my
wife." She flushed painfully.

"J said a lot of silly things I didn't mean: I didn't
know what sort of a man you were then."

"I'm the same man I was then; I love the vety ground
you walk on. Hazel — ^if you're trying to bres^ my
heart "

"I'm not ; I only want you to leave me alone."

He let her go violently.

"Leave you alone!" he echoed, passionately. "Leave
you alone so that you can have Hulbert and that rotten
lot hanging round here. How dare you let them call
you by your Christian name? How dare you have them
here to visit you? You talk to me as if I were a cad
and an outsiden Wait till you get to know them better,
and see what they are. If it's their money you like.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 193

they've got plenty of that I know, and I haven't a bob
in the world— but you knew that to start with."

"It would have made no difference if — if you'd really
cared for me. It wasn't money I wanted when I mar-
ried you."

He went doMm on his knees beside her^ encircling^ her
with his arms.

*'I do care for you. I'd give twenty years of my life if
I could undo all that has happened. I want nothing ki
the world but you, Hazel . . . Hazel . . . For
Grod's sake ... let me take you away!"

Hazel looked away from him; she was trembling all
over. Something in his voice and the touch of his arms
took her back forcibly to that night when he first said
he loved her, and just for an instant she wavered.

Then she broke out :

"I can't, I can't forgive you — give mc a little time—
leave me alone for a little "

Barry lifted his white face.

"I've kept away from you for weeks, and it's done no
good. You're learning to do without me."

It was the truth, and she knew it. Her life had been
filled to overflowing since she came to London. The flat-
tery and promise of Greaves and his friends had pleased
and excited her.

Ambition had crowded love out of her life. A veneer
of worldliness seemed to have grown about her heart.

She remembered the story of her own mother's mar-
riage, and she dreaded that her life would echo it. Barry
would soon tire of her, so Delia declared; had done
so already.

Hazel was easily influenced ; though she had quarrelled
with Delia, she believed that Delia was right in her
worldly knowledge of men. She believed that she her-
self was only one of the many women whom Barry had
loved in his life, and the knowledge terrified her.

She broke out desperately :

194 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

"If you'll give me a week, just another week, that
isn't asking very much. I want to think it over, I want a
little time."

She looked at his white face and quickly away again.

"I promise you, if you'll leave me alone, just for a
week, that I'll tell you then — if ... if I can . . .
ever do what you want."

"You don't mean to come back to me," he said
hoarsely.

She shivered.

"Oh, I don't know what I mean to do. It's your f atdt
I wanted to marry you and be happy with you, you know
I did. I can't help it if you've made me change." Her
voice broke. "Give me just this week, Barry — ^please!
please !"

He walked away from her, and stood looking down
at the fire, then he turned, and, coming back, took her
face in his hands.

"Very well — if you'll tell me something first."

"Yes."

"There isn't/ there isn't — any other man ?"

She did not understand.

'Any other man ?" she echoed.

'Yes, anyone who's cut me out — Norman, or that brute
Hulbert," he asked hoarsely. "If I thought you cared
a damn for either of them "

"Barry !"

"I'm sorry, but lately, somehow " But he could

not tell her of the greatest dread in his heart. He rushed
on: "At the end of the week, if I'm very patient, what
will you tell me then?"

But she only shook her head.

CHAPTER XXVI

BARRY packed a bag and left London that night.
He knew that if he stayed in town he would con-
stantly be hearing things about Hazel that would
make it very difficult for him to keep his promise.

He had great hopes now of the future, for, for the mo-
ment at least his jealousy was lulled. Her amazement
had been so thoroughly genuine when he asked her if
there was any other man for whom she cared.

Hulbert and Greaves had turned her head, that was
all. They had flattered her up with wonderful plans
for the future.

The whole world — ^hers and his — seemed to have
turned upside down. There was nothing left for him to
do now but to stand by and wait for it to right itself.

But the standing by was the hardest thing he had ever
done in his life. He went to a seaside town where the
season was just dragging to a close. He wandered about
alone all day trying to kill time. He felt that it was
something more than a godsend when, on the second
night, as he went up to dress for dinner, he met Agnes
Dudley on the stairs.

She was as amazed as he. She said she had no idea
that he was within a hundred miles. She was pathetically
pleased to see him.

Barry was pleased, too. He cheered up considerably,
and ate quite a good meal for the first time since his
arrival.

After dinner they sat in the lounge and talked.

"I was moped to death," Barry told her. *Tt seemed
too good to be true when I saw you."

Neither of them mentioned his wife.

195

196 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

On the sixth day he wrote to Hazel. He told her that
he should be back in town the following evening. When
might he come to see her ?

His hand shook as he signed his name. He felt that
every nerve in his body was on edge. At dinner tiiat
night he had a bottle of champagne to himself. His
hopes had gone up with a rush.

He travelled up to town with Mrs. Dudley ; he was so
excited that he could hardly keep still ; he left her alone
in the carriage most of the journey and went out into
the corridor to smoke.

The train was an express, but it seemed to drag; it
was getting dark before they reached London. He
grudged every moment that Mrs. Dudley kept him with
her. As soon as he had seen her safely to her car he
took a taxicab and went off to his rooms.

He felt like a schoolboy home for the holidays ; he was
too eager to wait for the lift ; he went up the stairs two
at a time. The thought came to him that perhaps he
would find Hazel there; that perhaps she would have
come to him like this, to put an end to explanations and
doubts for all time.

But the rooms were empty. Barry stood for a moment
with a little chill disappointment in his heart; he had
been too sure.

A bundle of letters were waiting for him; he sorted
them through eagerly, but there was none from Hagel.

For almost the first time he wondered seriously what
he should do if she never came back to him. The enor-
mity of the question almost stunned him.

A bell pinged sharply through the silence, and he
turned quickly; he had judged her too harshly. This
must be she; of course, it must! His heart began to
race. He could hardly breathe as he waited.

Then the door opened. "Mr. Hulbert, if you please,
sir."

Barry caught his breath hard; his lumbering figure
stiffened threateningly.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 197

Hulbert came into the room smiling rather nervously.
He and Barry had not met since that day in Hazel's
flat. He half held out his hand and drew it back again ;
he began to speak quickly.

"I called yesterday ; they told me you would be home
to-day."

"I've just come in," said Barry uncompromisingly.

"Er-^*-yes . . . well, I've called to see you on a
little matter of business. Er — I suppose I can sit down?"

Barry did not answer, and Hu&ert dragged forward
a chair.

"To begin with," he said after a moment, "though I
consider that you treated me rottenly about — ^your wife.
Very well, I'm not going to say any more."

"You'd better not, and if that's all you've come for,
you needn't wait, I've nothing to say to you."

Hulbert rose to his feet.

"It's not all, I've a great deal more to say. For one
thing you owe me money.'*

"Which you'll never get, because I haven't got it,"
Barry broke in shortly. "You'll be paid, if I ever get the
money, but you can't get blood out of a stone."

"I'm not going to try, I've come here to try and settle
the thing amicably. Business is business after all, Wick-
low, and if you'll just listen to me for a moment."

Barry scowled.

"Well — ^go on; I'm in a hurry."

Hulbert returned to his chair, he looked at Barry
rather uneasily and coughed deprecatingly.

"You owe me money," he said presently. "Well, I'm
willing to take quid pro quo for it. Do you get me ?"

Barry stared.

"I'm afraid I don't. There's nothing in my possession
that would be worth a quarter of the sum I owe you."
He stopped; he caught his breath suddenly. "Hadn't
you better explain ?" he asked in a deadly quiet voice.

Hulbert half smiled.

198 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

"I don't think there's any need," he said. "I think
you understand."

There was an absolute silence; Hulbert drew out his
case and selected a cigarette; he thought he had put
his proposal very neatly, and without a name being men-
tioned either.

"I haven't come here on my own initiative," he said
complacently. "It's been well talked over first, and your
wife . . ." He looked up at Barry and did not finish.
Barry was deathly white; he was standing with both
hands gripping a chair-back, his head a little craned for-
ward.

Hulbert threw his cigarette away.

"Look here," he said, with a sudden change of tone,
"it's no use beating about the bush. You're a man of the
world, and so am I, and I'm going to talk to you straight.
You married your wife for reasons I know nothing about,
and it's no business of mine; but what is my business is
just this, she doesn't care for you, she wants to be rid of
you. Well, give her her freedom, and name your own
price."

"My God!" said Barry hoarsely. He swayed a little
where he stood; his face was livid. "And you dare to
come here to me and make this proposal ? I don't be-
lieve that Hazel knows, I don't believe it; you're an in-
fernal liar!" He flung the chair away from him and

swayed forward with clenched fists. "You devil, you
ft

• • • .

Hulbert did not move; his eyes met the other man's
steadily.

"It's the truth," he said. ""Your wife knows I was
coming here this evening. I am here with her full
consent. She wishes to be free of you, that is all."
There was a tragic silence; it was impossible not to tell
by Barry's face how he was suffering.

Hulbert looked at him, and shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm sorry you're taking it so badly," he said; "but

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 199

you must have guessed all along what was coming. The
marriage was a mistake from the very first, and she can
see it now. She's got a future before her, and she's
wise enough to know it. You won't be the loser if you
let her go; I'll see to that. I don't bear you any ill-
will;! "

Barry moved violently, swinging the chair over with
a crash. He strode to the door and flung it wide.

He could hardly speak ; he ran a finger round his col-
lar as if he were choking.

"Get out," he said in a strangled voice, and then
again : "get out !"

Hulbert looked faintly alarmed.

"My dear chap, oh, all right, I'm going," and the next
moment Barry was alone.

He went over to the mantel-shelf and leaned his el-
bows on it, staring at himself in the glass.

This was the end of it. Hazel would never come back
to him.

And in answer to his letter she had sent Hulbert —
Hulbert of all men — to make this infamous proposition !
He supposed Hazel thought that he would do an)rthing
for money — she believed that he had married her for
money — so, of course, he would be willing to let her
go for money.

And it was all Norman's fault — curse him! curse
him!

Someone tapped at the door, Barry roused himself
with an effort.

"Come in." His housekeeper entered, she looked round
the room apologetically. Then she spoke.

"I beg your pardon, sir, but have you seen the even-
ing paper?"

Barry echoed her words vacantly.

"The evening paper? No, I haven't got one, why?"

She came a little further into the room, she had been
holding a paper behind her back.

200 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

"There's something I think you ought to see, sir. I
can't believe it myself, but I thought if I showed it to
you."

Barry took it from her impatiently, he glanced cas-
ually at the paragraph she indicated.

"We much regret to have to state that a bad acci-
dent occurred at Guildford this morning owing to two
motor-cars colliding, resulting in the death of one of the
drivers, Mr. Norman Wicklow, the only son of Mr. John
Wicklow, of Eresbie Hall."

Barry's big figure looked as if it had turned to stone,
as he stared down at the paper in his hand.

Norman dead! Oh, it was impossible, preposterous!
He could not believe it. Someone would have told him
if it had been true; they would never have left him to
find it out in this fashion.

Norman dead! And they had parted in anger. At
the moment Barry could only remember that for years
they had been like brothers. A hundred little incidents
of their boyhood came back to him as he realised that he
would never see his cousin again. He was big-hearted
enough to forget the last weeks; to remember Norman
only as he had been before either of them knew Hazel
Bentley.

He was aroused by the soft shutting of the door. The
housekeeper had gone away. Barry sat down with the
paper still in his hand. He felt dazed and inexpressibly
shocked. A moment since he had been cursing Norman
in his heart, and all the time he was dead.

There would be sorrow down at Eresbie Hall. Nor-
man's mother adored him. Barry could not bear to think
of what her grief would be. If it had only been him-
self instead. Nobody would have cared much if he had
died, and it would have been a way out for Hazel.

He wondered vaguely if she wanted to marry Hulbert.

If only he had been in a position to pay Hulbert back
the money he owed him ana tell him to go to the devil !

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 201

And then suddenly a thought struck him — a, thought
that made him catch his breath and clench his fingers
hard over the paper he held. If Norman were dead!
Now Norman was dead, John Wicklow's money was
bound eventually to come to him.

CHAPTER XXVn

HAZEL received Barry's letter the momiiii^ of die
day he came hade to town. It was waiting for
her on the taUe in the new flat when she came
in to breakfast

Hazd always got up to breakfast, which was one of
the many things Defia had quarreUcd with her aboot.

*^It's a^>surd to get up to breakfast," Ddia declared pet-
tishly. "I hate tiie world early in the morning. Why
ever can't you stay in bed and be comfy?"

She herself never put in an appearance before about
noon, unless something very speaal claimed her atten-
tion.

Barry's letter was propped up against the teapot, and
for a moment Hazel sat looking at it with apprdiension.
She knew quite well that the week was up to-day. She
had wakened that morning with a little quickened h^ut-
beat, wondering what would happen, what he would say
to her, what he would expect

Her hands shook as she opened his letter. He had
never written to her since their marriage. She flushed
as she read the first words.
*'My darling wife/'

He was taking a great deal for granted, she thought,
and was surprised that she did not feel more angry. She
read on eagerly:

"I am coming back to town to-morrow, and shall hope
to see you immediately. Hazel, I've been very patient
IVe tried to do as you wished, but a dozen times a day
I've nearly thrown up the sponge and come back to
you. Can't you forget all that you can't forgive about

202

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 203

me, and just remember that once we were very happy
together? It's so difficult to say what I want to in a
letter, but I love you, and that's the greatest argument I
can use. Write to me, Hazel. I shall look so eagerly
for a letter when I get back to town. I never was an
eloquent chap, but when I see you again — ^but I'm afraid
Jo count too much on that. — Barry."

Not much of a letter, perhaps; but something in its
ineloquence appealed to Hazel. She sat for a long time
while the breakfast grew cold, reading and rereading
the few lines.

Lately she had begun to feel the loneliness of her po-
sition ; she had written to Joe Daniels and had received
no answer. She felt cut off from everyone she had ever
known or cared for.

Barry was her husband. He was her natural protector,
and if she cast him off . . . She heard voices out-
side in the passage, and the next moment Delia entered
the room.

Hazel sprang to her feet. She could not believe her
eyes. Delia here! At this time of the morning! She
began to stammer her amazement, but the elder girl cut
her short.

"I just had to come. Have you heard the news?
Isn't it too awful? Poor Mr. Wicklow! I can't be-
lieve it's really true !"

Hazel's heart seemed to stand still ; she went white to
the lips. Barry! Something had happened to Barry.
She felt as if every drop of blood in her body was frozen.
Delia rattled on.

It's in all the papers. Haven't you seen the papers ?
My goodness! I thought I should have died when I
saw it. I was only having lunch with him two days
ago, and I dare say you've seen him since then. Isn't it
frightful ? You never know whose turn it is to go next."
She flung herself down in a chair. "One thing, it will
be a good thing for your Barry," she said grimly.

Hazel caught her breath ; then it was not Barry. She

204 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

felt so weak that she nearly fell; she groped for her
chair arid sat down*

She knew now how great her fear had been that
something had happened to Barry ! Delia was too wrapt
tip in her own emotions to be very observant.

"I thought you would be sure to know ; Norman was
such a pal of yours, wasn't he?"

Norman! So it was Norman! Hazel felt ashamed
because in the sudden revulsion of feeling she had no
room for any emotion but gladness. It was not Barry,
and that was all that seemed to matter.

"He was dead when they picked him up," Delia said
with a shiver. "I can't believe it — ^poor dear! I only
hope he didn't suffer."

She looked pale and upset; she hated death in any
form. She had felt that she must rush off and talk
to someone about it, even if it were only Hazel. She sat
looking round the room critically; she had not been in
the flat before.

"Well, they've done you all right," she said. "No
wonder you prefer this to my hole of a place."

"I liked being with you ; I should have stayed with you
if you had'wanted me to," Hazel answered. "But about
Norman . . ."

But Delia was tired of the topic already.

"You'll find it in all the papers," she said. "Let's
talk about something more cheerful. Give me some
coffee ; my head's just splitting. I never can stand getting
up early."

Hazd poured out the coffee. Her hands shook badly ;
she was all unnerved. She took Barry's letter up and
tucked it away in her frock. It seemed to have grown
very precious all at once. She wished Delia would go;
she wanted to be alone, to think things out quietly.

"My darling wife . . ." The words kept echoing
in her brain softly.

Delia sipped her coffee and drew her chair nearer to
the fire; she had a great deal to say about everything

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 205

in the room; she said that Greaves was evidently not
such a mean beast as Hulbert. She asked how many
times he came to see Hazel.

"He hardly ever comes. I don't like him coming here
when I am alone." Delia screamed with laughter.

"Little Miss Prude!" she said mockingly. "Why
don't you get a chaperon?"

Hazel was glad when she went away. She flung the
windows wide to let out the unbearably heavy perfume.
Delia was always scented up to the eyes.

Then she sat down by the fire and read Barry's letter
through again. He would be horfie that night. A few
hours and he would be in London. Her cheeks burned
with excitement. In the last few minutes she had learned
something.

She had learned that deep down in her heart she had
never ceased to care for him, that she loved him as
much to-day, in spite of ever3rthing, as she had done
when he first kissed her.

She had no engagements for that night, she wondered
if she dared go round to his rooms. She wondered
what he would say if he walked in and found her there ;
it gave her a little thrill to picture the delight in his
eyes . . .

It would be so much easier than writing a letter; so
much easier than waiting here till he came.

She lay back in the big chair and closed her eyes. She
could remember every detail of Barry's rooms, though
she had only been there once; she had so often thought
about them since; they had a sort of masculine comfort
that appealed to her ; she liked them better than this new,
expensive flat.

She looked out one of her prettiest frocks. She sang
as she dressed herself. Barry was once more the won-
derful man she had first thought him; and he was her
husband, too! Her heart swelled with pride.

She was just putting on her hat when Hulbert called.

206 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

She went to see him impatiently ; she did not want to be
detained now; she greeted him almost coldly.

His keen eyes scanned her flushed face.

"I hope I'm not worrying you. I wanted to see you
rather urgently." He stoppeid: "I've just seen Wicklow,"
he said.

"Barry!" His name rushed eagerly to her lips, her
heart gave a little throb; she had wanted to see him
before anyone else.

"Yes, I went round to his rooms ; he'd just come back
to town."

"I know ; he wrote to me."

He looked at her with sharp suspicion.

"You know where he has been?"

"Yes; I know — of course, I do."

She was impatient with this cross-questioning.

Hulbert shrugged his shoulders.

"Do you know who has been staying at the same hotel
with him?"

She echoed his words vaguely.

"Staying at the same hotel ! What do you mean ?"

"Mrs. Dudley was there. She has been there all this
week. They came up to town together this afternoon."

"Mrs. Dudley!" Hazel's thoughts flew back to that
night at the restaurant, to that afternoon in Barry's
rooms when Norman had flvmg Mrs. Dudley's photo-
graph to the floor.

She said again dully:

"Staying with him — at the same hotel !"

"Yes."

Hulbert was not looking at her; he felt a trifle ashamed
of the part he was playing.

After a moment.

"He's not worth a thought, my dear child," he said
gently. "Let him go; he's no use to you. As a man
he's quite a decent chap, but as a husband . . ."

She let her hand lie limply in his ; she felt very cold
and unemotional. Barry and Mrs. Dudley.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 207

Hulbert pressed his advantage.

"He's the sort of man who will handicap you all the
way along," he said. He was clever enough to get a
certain amount of s)mipathy into his voice. He sounded
as if he were really very sorry for her.

"Let him go once and for all. . . . He never
cared for you."

Hazel dragged her hand free ; pain was waking again
in her heart, tearing her.

"Oh, leave me alone — ^leave me alone!" she said.
. She went back to her room, and locked the door ;
she paced up and down, wringing her hands.

Barry and Mrs. Dudley ! She could think of nothing
else.

All her happiness of the day had gone. She loved
Barry, and he was just playing with her.

When she was sure that Hulbert had gone she went
back to the drawing-room. She tore Barry's letter
across and across, and watched the pieces bum away to
grey ash. One, fluttered by the draught from the chim-
ney, lay for a moment on the iron bar.

She looked at it with miserable eyes. "My darling
wife. . . ." The words seemed to mock her. She
pushed them back into the flames with the poker, and
held them there till there was nothing left.

But there was still his letter to answer. She dried
her tears fiercely and went over to the writing table.
If she did not write now, she would never write at all,
she knew. She dashed off a few lines.

"I have decided that I cannot ever live with you.
Please do not try to see me again."

She did not even sign her name. She folded the paper,
slipped it into an envelope, stamped and addressed it.
Then she rang the bell and told the maid to take it to
the post.

She stood in the centre of the pretty room till she
heard the shutting of the outer door; then she fell to
crying as if her heart would break.

CHAPTER XXVIII

BARRY went down home the night he heard of Nor-
man's death, and for a week stayed there in dur-
ance vile.

As a boy he had been fond of the old house, but now
it depressed him, and got on his nerves.

Mrs. Wicklow was broken-hearted. She could hardly
bear Barry out of her sight. She talked to him by the
hour of Norman, recalling incidents of the days when
they were boys together. She took it for granted that
Barry was as cut-up at the death of his cousin as she was.

Barry did his best; he got through the first days of
mourning without once showing impatience. Mrs.
Wicklow told her husband that she had never realised
before what a kind heart Barry had. She begged Barry
to come down and see her often.

"You're the only one who can talk to mc about my
boy," she said over and over again. "I know you were
everything to each other."

Hazel's brief dismissal was sent on to him from his
London rooms; he just read it through once and burnt
it. After all, it was no more than he had expected; he
supposed he had been a fool to hope for an3rthing dif-
ferent.

One evening he followed his uncle into the library,
and asked apologetically if it would matter if he ran
up to town for a few days.

The hatchet between Barry and his uncle had been
buried by mutual consent. Hazel had never been men-
tioned between them again.

There was something pathetic in the elder man's eyes
as he looked up at his nephew.

208

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 209

"Matter, why, of course not! We can't expect you
to spend your life down here. Do as you please, my
boy, of course."

"It's only for a day or two," Barry said awkwardly.
"I'll be back again for the week-end."

He turned to the door, but Mr. Wicklow called him
back.

"I want to speak to you."

Barry returned reluctantly and stood waiting.

A moment of silence, then Mr. Wicklow held out his
hand. "Shake hands, my boy; I should like the past to
be forgotten between us. Ever)rthing that I have in the
world will be yours some day ; I've been a bit harsh with
you sometimes, Barry, I know, but now "

"You've been thundering good," Barry interrupted
eagerly. "Thundering good ! I owe everything to you."

Mr. Wicklow smiled faintly.

"You owe your mistaken marriage to me, too, don't
forget," he said rather sadly. "Barry, if there is any-
thing I can do — if it's just a question of money or any-
thing like that "

Barry looked away.
You can't do anything," he said rather shortly.
We've agreed to differ." He moved restlessly; he
wished the interview were at an end.

"There's just one thing more," Mr. Wicklow said.
"With regard to money — I've written to your bankers,
Barry, and made arrangements with them about the fu-
ture. You don't need to worry about any debts you
may have. Any cheques you choose to draw within rea-
son will be met. No, no — don't say anything, it's all
right, my boy."

Barry hardly knew how he got out of the room; he
felt as if a ton weight had been lifted off his back.
When he got to London the first thing he did was to
write Hulbert a cheque and send it off.

He was no longer under an obligation to the little
swine, he told himself with elation. He could afford to

210 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

quarrel with him now in real earnest when they next
met.

For twenty-four hours he stalked about enjo3ring his
new feeling of independence. He paid all his debts
and neatly docketed the receipts. It gave him an ex-
traordinary sensation to know that he owed no money,
and that he had a substantial bank balance into the bar-
gain.

But, like' all novelties, the sensation soon wore off,
and he began to think of Hazel again*

He looked Greaves up in the evening; but Grreaves
was too busy to spare him more than a moment.

"Sorry to hear about your cousin's death," he said in
his blunt way. "Makes a difference to you, I suppose?"

Barry said yes, it makes a slight difference. He did
not want to ^scuss his personal affairs. After a mo-
ment he asked casually after Hazel.

Greaves laughed.

"Little Hazel! Oh, of course, she's your wife, isn't
she?" He looked at Barry with a twinkle. "You
fairly bowled poor old Hulbert over, my boy, when you
told him that. He's very keen in that direction, you
know. Pooh! don't look so angry! She'll have any
amount of admirers after we once get her going. You
ought to be proud of her!"

"I hate the stage," Barry said savagely.

Greaves chuckled.

"Rubbish! Wait till all London's talking about your
wife; wait till you see her portrait in all the papers
and her name six inches high on a bill. I tell you she's
going to be the hit of the season."

Barry knew that Greaves' judgment was, as a rule, in-
fallible, and his heart sank.

1 suppose she's all right?" he asked, after a moment.
'Right as rain ! Haven't you seen her lately ? Oh, I
forgot that yours is a semi-detached sort of arrange-
ment."

"And when is the great night to be?" Barry asked.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 211 ^

He was surprised at the indiflference of his own voice;
his heart had not beaten any faster at the sound of
Hazel's name. He wondered if he really did not care
so much for her after all that he could calmly discuss
her with Greaves.

"The night! Oh, we have a trial run at Liverpool
next Thursday. Coming up to see the show ? Oh, you
ought to come," he added, as Barry shook his head. "It
would give her a little confidence to see a few faces she
knows in the audience."

Barry did not think it would give Hazel much confi-
dence to see him there, but he meant to go all the same.

Thursday was only two days off! and if Hazel did
not dread it for herself, Barry began to dread it for her.
He saw several paragraphs about her in the papers — a
weekly illustrated produced a panel portrait of her.

He turned a page, and there was his wife's face smil-
ing up at him. Such a changed Hazel ! He sat staring
at her for a long time with a strangled sort of feeling.
Was there anything left to him of the little girl he had
loved down at Cleave Farm.

This smiling, self-possessed young beauty met his eyes
with steady coquetry, as if she knew full well what a
miracle had been wrought in the past few weeks.

"My wife!" said Barry under his breath.

He could not believe it. It sent the blood rushing to
his face as he read the few eulogistic lines printed be-
neath the portrait. He had so many times sneered at
similar advertisements. It made him .writhe to realise
that this was really Hazel whom the papers were so will-
ing and eager to run because the great Greaves had taken
her up.

He bought all the papers he could find that contained
any mention of his wife. There were several with por-
traits of her. It seemed strange to think that all this
had been happening and that he had known nothing
about it.

The old twinge of bitter jealousy stirred again in his

212 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

heart. He stirred the fire into a blaze and sat down
before it, stretching his long legs wearily. Life had be-
gun to pall once more. London was as dreary and de-
pressing as he had found the country. He found him-
self wishing that someone would drop in and keep him
company.

As if in answer to that wish, the telephone bell
whirred suddenly. Barry got up with fresh energy. He
wondered if it might perhaps be Mrs. Dudley. He had
not seen her since they parted at Euston. He took
down the receiver.

"Hullo!" The answer came faintly from the end of
the wire. "Hullo! Who is that, please?"

Barry frowned. "Wicklow — Barry Wicklow," he
answered, with a touch of impatience. "Who is speak-
ing?"

It seemed a long time before the answer came; then
it was so hesitating and nervous that Barry could hardly
catch it.

"I can't hear you," he said irritably. "Do speak up!
Who is it ? Hazel ! Good heavens !"

His heart almost seemed to stop beating. He con-
trolled his voice with an effort.

"Hazel, is it you ? How are you ?"

The pretty voice answered him with a little nervous
laugh.

"I'm quite well, thank you. I was just wondering

** She broke off. "I wonder if you will mind if I

ask you something."

"Not in the least. Please ask me."

"Well — well — ^are you — ^are you engaged for this
evening?"

"No, at least — ^nothing that could not be put off," he
said guardedly. "Why do you ask?"

"Because, I wondered . . . will you take me out
to supper?"

Barry had never been so taken aback in all his life;

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 213

he turned quite white; for a moment sheer amazement
kept him dumb.

"Of course, if you'd rather not/' he heard her say,
nervously.

He roused himself with an effort.

"I shall be delighted," he said mechanically. "Where
would you like to go?"

"I don't mind, somewhere quiet — ^where there won't
be a crowd."

"Very well. Shall I fetch you, and what time?"

"I shall be ready in half-an-hour. Are you — ^are you
quite sure you don't mind ?"

"Quite sure," said Barry gravely. He waited a mo-
ment, then "Good-bye — I'll be round in half-an-hour."

He hung up the receiver and stood for a moment
staring at it with blank eyes. For the first time it oc-
curred to him that perhaps someone was playing a joke.
He could not believe that he had heard aright.

What on earth was the meaning of it all? He ran
distracted fingers through his thick hair. Was she
sorry ? Did she want him back again ? Or was it ... .
was it just that she knew now of his altered fortunes ?

His excitement fell away ; his agitated heart-beats died
down. He went soberly into his room and began to dress.

If that was all she wanted him for! His brows met
in a scowl above his eyes. He hated the thought but it
would not be dismissed.

All women liked money and the things it could buy.
Hazel had proved herself no exception to the rest. Was
he a fool to have said he would take her out ?

This was going to be a most amazing evening. Con-
jecture after conjecture whirled through his brain as he
drove to Hazel's flat. Even after he had been admitted
he quite expected to find that she would not know why
he had come.

He entered the room prepared for anything; but
Hazel was there, standing by the fire, drawing on her

214 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

gloves. She looked round as he entered ; she smiled with
nervous diffidence.

'You're very punctual," she said.

'You said in half-an-hour/' Barry reminded her.

He could not understand the situation at all. One
thing he was resolved, that he would not make a single
overture to her. He would be friendly, attentive, any-
thing she liked, but there should be no mention of the
past.

She stood for a moment tugging at a button.

Barry moved towards her. "Let me do that for you.

He fastened the button clumsily with his big fingers.

"Are you quite ready?" he asked. "I've kept the taxi."

He helped her into her coat — ^an expensive looking coat
with a fur collar — but he made no comment He smiled
in friendly fashion, meeting her eyes.

"This is an unexpected pleasure," he said, evenly. "I
was quite prepared for a dull evening."

He sat opposite to her in the taxi ; he talked platitudes
the whole way. He noticed that she was very quiet, that
she only answered him in monosyllables, till suddenly,
when there was a little pause, she said nervously:

"Barry, why don't you ask why I rang you up this
evening?"

He shrugged his shoulders, and she went on: "I am
sure you must think it strange of me; of course, you must
be wondering why I ^"

Barry laughed.

"I never wonder why a woman does an)rthing," he
said, with a touch of cynicism. "But I am pleased to
take you out."

There was a sort of formality in his voice; to an on-
looker he would not have sounded particularly enthusi-
astic.

There was a little silence.

"Do you— do you know that I am going to Liverpool
to-morrow?" she asked then.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 215

"Yes — Greaves told me. He thinks you are going to
be a wonderful success. I hope you are."

Hazel's heart gave a little throb of dismay. This was
so different from what he had said before.

"Oh, but that's what I'm so afraid of. Mr. Greaves
is sure, but I am not. Oh, you don't know how fright-
ened I am."

"Unnecessarily, I am sure," Barry told her kindly.
"Greaves is a man who never makes a mistake. He is
not likely to be wrong if he predicts a success for you.
He is going with you, of course?"

"Yes."

"And— Hulbert?"

"Yes." She leaned forward a little, trying to see his
face. "Are you coming, too ?" she asked.

There was a perceptible pause before Barry answered,
but he did a great deal of rapid thinking in that second.

"I think not," he said, evenly. "Liverpool is such a
deuce of a way. I'm tired of railway journeys. I only
came back to town yesterday, you know — ^but, of course,
you don't know."

Hazel had shrunk back again in her comer. She did
not speak again till the taxi stopped.

"I hope you will like this place," Barry said, formally.
"It's considered quite good by people who know."

He followed her into the little restaurant. It was a
downstairs place, and very comfortably appointed. Most
of the tables were unoccupied. Barry chose one at the
end of the room.

"The last time I took you out anywhere was on our
wedding day, I think, wasn't it ?" he asked, casually.

She nodded, flushing a little.

"Yes; and Norman " she broke off. "Oh, I was

so sorry to hear about Norman," she said.

"Yes, it was hard luck," Barry agreed, though his
voice sounded hard. "My uncle and aunt are very much
cut lip, of course.'

216 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

He gave his order to the waiter and took a chair
opposite Hazel. For the first time he really looked at
her.

"Who chooses your frocks?" he asked, suddenly.

She flushed sensitively. "Mr. Greaves sent me to
somebody he knows. She's quite a lady, and she has
beautiful taste."

"She certainly has. I hardly recognise you."

"Perhaps I'm not really changed so much as you
think," she said, almost inaudibly.

Barry forced a laugh.

"I saw a photograph of you in one of the papers
to-day," he said. "If what one hears is correct you will
soon be the talk of London."

She did not answer.

"I shall think about you to-morrow night," he went
on lightly. "And wish you every success. May I send
you some flowers?"

"If you would like to."

"I wonder they allowed you out to-night," he said,
presently. "Oughtn't you to be resting, or practising, or
something? I don't know what a star does the night
before her debut, but I should have thought Greaves and
Hulbert would have been very strict gaolers."

She looked up at him.

"That's why I asked you to take me out," she said,
painfully. "Mr. Hulbert wanted to come round to see
me, and, oh, I don't Jike him," she added, tremulously.

Barry knocked the ash from his cigarette into a tray
in front of him. His hand was not quite steady.

"You've changed your opinion," he said, quietly.

"Yes ... I thought he was so different; I
thought. . . ."

"Oh, he's not such a bad chap," Barry said carelessly,
though his heart was racing. "It doesn't do to take him
too seriously ; he was very decent to me eighteen months
ago — ^people like him, as a rule."

He looked at her, and quickly away, but not before he

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 217

had seen how her lips trembled, and that the tears stood
in her eyes. He let his cigarette go out. When he spoke
next there was a different quality in his voice.

"You are not obliged to make a friend of him if you
don't wish to do so, you know," he said, quietly.

"But I've told him I don't want him," she broke out
impulsively. "And it isn't any good; and so — so I

thought if I told you " She stopped, only to rush on

again : "I know I haven't really any claim on you, but I
thought if ... if you wouldn't mind. . . ."

"I shall be pleased to do an)rthing I can," Barry said,
formally. He kept his eyes averted. What was she try-
ing to ask him, he wondered? "What do you want me
to do?"

She leaned a little towards him over the table; her
eyes were very pleading.

"If you would come to Liverpool; I just dread going
there without — ^without anyone belonging to me. If you
wouldn't mind coming — it would make all the difference
if I knew you were there."

Barry raised his eyes slowly. Did she still think of
him as "someone belonging to her" ?

"You really wish me to come?"

"Oh, if you would."

For a moment he wavered. He would have given any-
thing in the world to have been able to refuse, but some-
how, with that look in her eyes, that eager note in her
voice, refusal seemed impossible.

"Very well," he said. "I shall be delighted, of course.
. . . Ah, here is dinner."

It was quite a merry little meal in its way. Hazel
spoke no more of herself save to tell him how hard she
had been working, how difficult it had all been.

"They even had to teach me how to walk on to the
stage," she said. "Mr. Greaves said that very few
people know how to walk on well. He has been very
kind ; do you like him ?"

"I prefer him to Hulbert."

218 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

"So do I." Barry was leaning back in his chair. He
looked rather tired, she thought. He looked somehow
older, too, and there was a little worried line between his
eyes.

He had been kind to her that evening, and yet — ^he
was not the Barry she had first known and loved. He
seemed so indifferent; he had spoken of Greaves and
Hulbert quite casually, though once he had told her that
it drove him mad to know she was going about with
them.

It was quite true that a sudden inexplicable fear of
Hulbert had driven her to make this overture to Barry.
Something in the way Hulbert looked at her, something
different in tlie tone of his voice, had roused a vague
apprehension in her heart.

In sudden panic she realised how utterly alone she was,
that there was nobody but Barry to whom she could turn.
She was unstnmg and nervous — it had been sheer des-
peration that had driven her to him that evening.

He was different to those other men — there was some-
thing about him that had already given a feeling of
security.

It was quite early still when they left the restaurant.

"I don't know if you would care to go on anywhere
else," Barry said, tentatively, as they drove away. "I'm
quite at your service, you know."

But Hazel said she would rather go home. "I think
I'm a little tired," she said. "And I've got to work hard
to-morrow . . . Oh !" The taxicab, swinging round
a comer, had flung her against him. She laughed ner-
vously, and tried to raise herself, but Barry's arm was
round her in a grip of steel. He did not speak, but he
just held her tightly to him.

He quite expected that she would try to free herself,
but her little figure seemed to yield quite willingly to his
touch.

Barry half turned. In the light of a street lamp they
were passing he saw her eyes. She was looking up at

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 219

him, and for a moment it seemed as if the past unhappy
weeks were wiped out and forgotten. She was once more
the little girl he had known and loved — ^the little girl
who had cried so bitterly when he went away, and who
had followed him to London and married him.

"Hazel!" said Barry, hoarsely. He drew her head
down to his shoulder, and bending, found her lips.

There was no time for words. Hazel had barely freed
herself from him when the taxicab stopped, and the
driver came to the door.

"Is this the number, sir?"

Barry swore under his breath. He hardly knew if
he were standing on his head or his heels. He paid the
driver extravagantly, and in another moment he and
Hazel stood alone on the path in the autumn night.

Barry looked at her.

"Well?" he said, huskily.

She answered in whispered confusion. "I can't talk
to you here, and I've got so much to tell you . . .
will you ?" she broke off.

The big door leading into the block of flats behind
them opened suddenly. The porter came out. He stood
for a moment against the light, whistling for a taxicab.
A woman had followed him out and stood on the steps
waiting impatiently. It was Delia.

She saw Hazel. She came down the steps.

"Well, I never!" She looked the girl up and down
quizzically. "I've been waiting an hour for you, my
dear. I quite thought I should catch you in to-night;
you ought to be resting instead of gadding about. A nice
sort of wreck you'll be in the morning. Hulbert hasn't
half been swearing, I can tell you."

She glanced at Barry. She gave a little exclamation
of amazement.

"You ! Lord, what in the world will happen next ?"

Hazel had moved away from him. She felt horribly
nervous and self-conscious. She dreaded what Delia
would say.

220 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

Barry guessed how she was feeling.

"I'll say good-night," he said, quietly. He held his
wife's hand hard for a moment. He felt that he could
have wrung Delia's neck for having appeared so inop-
portunely. "I shall see you to-morrow," he said.

There was no time for more. Hazel turned and fled
into the house. A taxi came crawling up through the
darkness. Delia looked at Barry. "Can I drop you
anywhere ?" she asked him.

"Yes, you can," Barry told her, uncompromisingly. "I
want a word with you, too."

The porter shut the door, and they drove away.

Delia leaned back and drew her coat cosily round her.

"I've been waiting there an hour for Hazel," she
said, disagreeably. "She's a little fool to have gone out
to-night. Hulbert was mad, I can tell you. If she's not
careful he'll chuck her up, and then she'll be in a nice
hole."

Barry laughed. He felt that he could afford to be
magnanimous.

"I fancy Hulbert will get his conge sooner than he
expects," he said lightly. "My wife has no further use
for him."

He spoke confidently, but Delia burst into shrill
laughter.

"So you've nibbled the bait first time," she said,
coarsely. "I thought you'd got more sense! I thought
you were a match for Hazel, but apparently she's too
much for you ! I never thought she was so smart !"

She laughed again. "So you think she wants you
bade, do you?" she mocked him. "Barry Wicklow, I
never thought you were so green ! I'd have backed you
to see through her every time. Bless your heart, it's
not you she wants at all; it's your cousin's money and
Erestae Hall, and all the rest of the paraphernalia you've
stepped into ; she "

She stopped. Barry had leaned over and caught her
arm in a fierce grip.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 221

"What the devil do you mean? If this is more of
your infernal mischief-making "

She shook herself free. "Bah !" she said, contemptu-
ously. "You can't bully me any more. I never liked
you, but I never hated you half as much as I hate Hazel,
with her baby face, and her way of getting round every-
body! . . . It's you one day and Hulbert the next,
and Greaves the next.

"I thought she'd finished with you, and she would have
done if that cousin of yours hadn't conveniently died.
Oh, she knows what she's doing! She fancies herself
as Mrs. Barry Wicklow, with Eresbie Hall in the back-
ground. Hulbert was telling her last night that you'd
come into it all. He told her that you'd paid up what
you owed him. She didn't say much, she's too deep to
give herself away, but I knew what she meant to do, I
could see it in her eyes. She's too clever to put all her
eggs in one basket — she wants a saver all the time. If
she's a frost with Greaves, well, she'll fall back on you,
if you're fool enough to let her. What are you going to
do?"

Barry had let down the window with a run, and was
shouting to the driver.

"Where are you going?" Delia asked again, fearfully.
But Barry did not answer; the taxi stopped and he left
her without a word or a look, and strode away into the
darkness.

Delia looked after him with angry eyes ; then suddenly
she laughed.

"I'll teach you to snub me, my boy,** she said, vixen-
ishly, under her breath. The driver came to the door ; he
looked at Delia suspictously. She broke out angrily. "Oh,
drive on, and don't stand there gaping. Do you want me
to catch my death of cold?" She leaned over and
catching the handle, slammed the door viciously, and the
next moment the taxi had started away again.

CHAPTER XXIX

HAZEL lay awake half the night thinking of the
wonderful change a few hours had made in her
life. After all, she had reason to be grateful to
Hulbert.

But for that indefinable something in his manner which
had frightened her, she would never have sent for Barry
— and then they would never have come home together,
and then nothing of all that had happened would have
happened !

There had been no need for explanations or ques-
tionings — ^that one impulsive kiss had straightened out
the tangle. She could laugh at herself now for ever hav-
ing believed she had grown tired of him.

To-morrow she would see him again ; he would go up
to Liverpool with her ; she no longer dreaded the ordeal.
With Barry there everything would be well. She hoped
that she would be a success for his sake. It would be
worth while to make him proud of her.

Though she hardly closed her eyes all night she was
quite fresh in the morning. She sang as she dressed;
she was glad the sun was shining. This was going to be
a most wonderful day. She wondered how soon Barry
would come. There had been no time to make any ar-
rangements last night after Delia arrived on the scene.
Hazel frowned as she thought of her cousin. It seemed
as if she had been the bad fairy in her life, always
turning up to spoil things when she was most happy.

She never gave a thought to Agnes Dudley or Hulbert.
They had been quite wiped out of existence when Barry
kissed her last night. They both had something to for-

222

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 223

give, he and she. She was happy to be mag-
nanimous ; she would let the past bury itself.

She ate her breakfast with one eye on the clock. It
was only nine; she supposed she could not expect him
to come yet.

The hardness and bitterness had fallen from her heart.
When presently she looked at herself in the glass her
whole expression seemed changed.

She hoped Barry would thixJc she had improved; she
remembered that he had admired her frock last night.

Another hour dragged away. With every sound now
her heart raced, every step that came along the street
she was sure must be him. But at twelve he had not
come.

Hazel felt a little chill of disappointment. She tried
to choke back the feeling; something had delayed him.
He would come directly ; of course he would. She could
not remember whether she had told him that she had to
catch the two o'clock train to Liverpool.

Greaves rang her up presently. "Was she "all right ?"
he asked anxiously. "Not a bit nervous ?"

Hazel laughed. "I'm not yet; I don't know what I
shall be like to-night."

"You'll be all right," he assured her.

Another quarter of an hour passed. Hazel could bear
it no longer. Barry was ill, nothing else could have kept
him away, she was sure. She took down the receiver and
gave his number. Her voice shook as she asked for
him. Someone strange answered her.

"Mr. Wicklow is not in; he went out half-an-hour
ago.

Hazel's heart beat quickly. Of course, he must be on
his way to her; how silly she had been to doubt him.
She had almost hung up the receiver again when the
voice spoke once more.

"Is that Miss Bentley speaking?"

"Yes."

"Mr. Wicklow left a message, he asked me to tell you

224 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

if you rang up that he was sorry he would not be able
to go to Liverpool to-day ; that he had had to leave town
on urgent business."

Hazel tried to answer, but her lips felt frozen. She
echoed tlie words mechanically.

"Not able to go to Liverpool; oh, are you sure?"

"Quite sure, 9iat was the message, Mr. Wicklow has
left London."

Hazel could never quite remember what happened
after that. She supposed she hung up the receiver. She
supposed that somehow she got across the room and sat
down on the sofa. She leaned her head back against
the cushions, and closed her eyes. She wondered if she
were going to faint.

Barry had gone! Barry was not going to Liverpool
with her ! Barry had left London !

She said it over and over again to herself, but the
words merely sounded foolish. It was only last night
that Barry had held her in his arms and kissed her ; only
last night that he had said he loved her — or hadn't he
really said it? She could not remember — she felt as if
she were drowning in a sea of bitterness and disappoint-
ment.

She never knew how long she lay there — the minutes
passed away unnoticed. Presently the maid came to the
door ; her eyes grew anxious as she looked at Hazel.

"You ought to be getting ready, Miss. Mr. Hulbert
will be here directly."

Hazel roused herself.

"I'm not going — I can't go — I can't go!" She broke
down into tears.

The girl was very distressed. She supposed it was
all nerves. She talked away soothingly. She brought
Hazel some wine and made her eat something. She
wished to goodness Hulbert would come and take the sit-
uation in hand. She thought Hazel really looked ill.
She could not understand such a sudden breakdown ; she
had been so particularly well and cheerful that morning.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 225

She was relieved when Hulbert arrived. When she
heard his ring, Hazel started up. She clutched the girl's
arm hysterically.

"Send him away; say I can't go. I won't see him;
it's no use — I'm not going to see him !"

She went into her own room, and threw herself face
down on. the bed.

Greaves, Liverpool, and her own hoped-for success
were all forgotten. The only thing that mattered at
all was that Barry had thrown her over, that Barry had
not meant what he said last night. He had just been
playing with her — she wished she could die.

The maid came to the door.

,"Mr. Hulbert says he must see you. Miss; he seems
very upset."

Hazel raised her white face.

"Send him away; I can't see anybody; tell him I'm
ill; tell him what you like, only send him away."

A moment passed; then she heard Hulbert's voice.

"Hazel, if you don't come and speak to me, I shall
have to come in and see what is the matter."

Hazel tried to answer that nothing was wrong; that
she just wanted to be let alone.

• "I can't go to Liverpool. It's no good— you must tdl
Mr. Greaves." But she went into the sitting-room.

She looked a pitiable little object. Her eyes were red
with crying, her cheeks white.

"I'm not going. It's no good. Nothing you can say
will make me change my mind."

He took her hand.

"You'll be all right to-night. Come now, be brave!
It's just nerves. You can't disappoint everyone like
tfiis. Greaves will be furious."

She turned her face away. "I don't care."

She didn't care. There seemed to be nobody in all
the world now who mattered but Barry.

Hulbert tried every persuasion in his power. Finally
he got angry.

226 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

"You'll ruin your chances," he told her. "I thought
better of you. It's childish, Hazel. What has happened
to make you like this ?"

"Nothing has happened. I only want to be left alone.
I don't care if Mr. Greaves is angry,, or what he says."

Finally he left her. He went off to Greaves.

"It's not a bit of use. She'd only go to pieces if
we insist on taking her."

Greaves was philosophical. It was not the first time
he had had his plans upset by a bad attack of nerves.
He shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, it's no use worrying," he said. "You must wire
them. I'll go round and see her later. I'm not sur-
prised. She's only a kid after all, and we've rather
iiished her. She'll have plenty more chances."

He was the kind of man who never showed his feel-
ings, no matter how perturbed he might be. It was late
in the afternoon before he rang Hazel up. He asked
quite casually if she felt better. He could hear the tears
in her voice as she answered him.

"Are you very angry? I'm so sorry, but I really
couldn't help it."

He answered that he was not angry at all, and that
she was not to worry. He added that he was not really
so keen on the Liverpool appearance ; perhaps she should
make her debut in London ; he would think which would
be the best thing to do.

"I shall come round and see you to-morrow, anyway,"
he said. "Go to bed early and sleep. Don't worry;
everything is all right."

She felt slightly comforted; she did not really care in
the least that her first appearance had been ruined ; for
the moment nothing mattered except that Barry had
failed her.

She could not understand it; try as she would she
could think of no reason that could have brought about
such a rapid change; she felt intolerably shamed and
humiliated.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 227

She dozed fitfully that night; once she woke up cry-
ing; in the darkness and silence the whole tragic disap-
pointment seemed to return with overwhelming force.

She dreaded lest Barry should he^rJh:'*-'^ had not

gone to Liverpool
grievin

Grea
ment ;
ing pap^j
appearing
might be;

Hazel i
to her th\
bear to tt
white f acdi
she not goi\
him how li\

When G,
almost heri
quivered as \

"I am so i
you will forj-'

He assure<i
factured seve\
suddenly been
all, and been

.rj -C ttf tOti

laoojf

«•

was

^ertise-
morn-
• from
t she

emed

\ not

and

had

)wn

mg
ps

:)e

- '^i^A

« wtiio had
^^ AXAgnt for no reason at
^.^uie to appear. He did not ask any
questions ; he said that the additional advertisement might
prove to be a very good thing in the long run.

He left Hazel smiling; she was quite sorry when he
had gone.

She worked very hard for the next day or two; she
never gave herself any rest. She dreaded having nothing
to do ; being alone with her thoughts was a nightmare.

A week passed, and no word came from Barry. He
had disappeared completely.

Hulbert took her about a great deal. His too-attentive
manner no longer frightened her ; she hardly noticed it.

228 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

She tried to grow cynical and woridly as Delia was.
She laughed at his love-making and blatant flattery*

"I'm going to take you for a run down in the country
to-morrow," he said one evening. "You're losing your
roses ; London is fagging you, and you mustn't get tired
before the great event."

Her eyes brightened a little at Hulbert's suggestion.

"I should love to go," she said. She thought with a
sore of home-sickness of the lanes and fields round about
Cleave Farm; they would all be in their autumn frocks
now ; there would be red berries in the hedges, and won-
derful tints in the woods. She stifled a sigh. What was
the use of remembering? The happiest people were as-
suredly those who never looked back, but always on — on.

It was a sunny morning when they started, there was
just a crispness in the air that seemed to speak of win-
ter days to come; the cool wind painted Hazel's cheeks
with a faint flush.

"I feel as if I can breathe now," she said as they left
London behind them. "It's quite different down here in
the country."

They drove for miles and miles along smooth roads
between autumn hedges. Hazel was very quiet. The
fresh air made her feel drowsy ; she was glad that Hul-
bert did not expect her to talk.

They stopped for lunch at a little old-fashioned inn,
where there were sloping ceilings and uneven floors.

Old pewters shone on a dark dresser, the fireplace was
wide and open, with logs burning on the hearth.

"You look better already," Hulbert told Hazel as he
helped her on with her big coat before they restarted.
"I wish I had thought of bringing you out like this
before."

She laughed.

'Well, we can always come again," she said.

'Yes — ^we can always come again," he echoed.

They went on through the grey afternoon; the suri
had gone in now; it was getting chilly; Hazel shivered.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 229

"Oughtn't we to be turning back ?" she asked.

He slowed down.

"I'm not quite sure of the road; we'll ask at the
next inn."

It was nearly dark when the next village was reached ;
Hazel was very cold now and a little cross.

"We ought to have gone back after we had lunch," she
said. "How far are we from London ?"

A boy standing by volunteered the information:

"About sixty-four miles."

Hazel gave a little gasp of dismay.

"Oh, we shall be ever so late home."

Hulbert frowned.

"It's all rot — ^we're not so far."

He took her into the inn and ordered some tea, he left
her while he went out to light the lamps of the car and
get some more petrol, and presently he came back.

"There's something wrong with the confounded en-
gine. I shall have to see if I can get a mechanic."

He left her again, and was away a long time ; when he
came back he avoided her eyes.

"I'm sorry, we shall have to put up here for to-night.
There's only a youth in this one-eyed hole who knows
anything about cars, and he doesn't understand this one.
We must stop the night here, and go on in the morning."

Hazel rose in dismay.

"But I don't want to — can't we get a train ? Oh, I'd so
much rather go back to London."

"You can go up early in the morning." He took a
step towards her. "Don't be silly," he said softly. "Don't
you think I can look after you. Hazel." He broke off,
there were voices in the narrow passage outside, some-
one opened the door.

"A fire — ^thank the Lord; I'm perished. I " The

man who had entered stopped dead, meeting Hazel's
frightened eyes across the room. It was Barry WicMow.

CHAPTER XXX

BARRY looked from Hazel to Hulbert in sheer
amazement. He had noticed the big car outside in
the grey evening, and had glanced at it casually
as he passed, but that it should belong to Hulbert had
never even remotely occurred to him.

There was a moment of awkward silence, then Barry
said:

"This is a very surprising meeting."

Hulbert answered ungraciously ; he was furious at this
unexpected encounter. If looks could have killed, Barry
would have dropped dead on the spot. But Barry was
not looking at him; he had walked over to the fire and
was holding chilled hands to its warmth.

"Turned cold, hasn't it?" he said. "I'm just motor-
ing up from home, and I've got a puncture, so I put up
here while my man mends it."

"Our car's gone wrong, too," Hazel said. She was
surprised that she could speak so calmly. "Mr. Hulbert
is afraid we shall have to stay the night." The words
were deliberate, but Barry's face did not change at all.

"It seems a comfortable enough place," he said lightly.
**I've put up here myself. What's wrong with the car?
I dare say Northam could put it right. I'll ask him to
have a look at it for you."

He left the room before either of them could an-
swer. Hulbert turned to Hazel furiously.

"Did you know that fellow was coming here — ^is this
all a put-up job?" he asked roughly.

She drew back in utter amazement.

"Did I know ? Why in the world should I know ? Mr.

230

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 231

Wicklow's movements are not of the least interest to me.
I think you forgot yourself."

He apologised ungraciously.

"I'm sorry, I hate the fellow. I don't want any of his
infernal interference."

Hazel turned away disdainfully.

"Anything is better than having to stay here," she said.

She stood with one foot resting on the shining curb,
looking down into the fire.

It was strange how secure she felt now she knew
Barry was here. The first glimpse of his big, lumbering
figure blocking up the doorway had changed the aspect
of everything.

Hulbert had gone out again to where the headlights of
the car shone through the gathering darkness watch-
fully. Barry and his man stood examining the engine;
Barry glanced up as Hulbert joined him.

"I'm afraid there's nothing to be done," he said,
shortly. "Northam can do nothing with it."

The light from the open inn door shone full on the
elder man's face, it was impossible to misread its ex-
pression — the triumph, the half-snering smile.

"Ah, thanks!" he drawled. "I knew you couldn't
manage it. It's good of you to have troubled. Don't let
me keep you."

"No," said Barry. "I shall be getting along."

He went back to the parlour where Hazel waited.

"I'm sorry, we can't do anything; you'll have to stay

here for the night, unless " He paused; he looked

down at her with hard eyes.

"Unless you care to come back to town with me."

Hazel had turned as he entered ; she was very pale.

Hulbert joined them.

"There's nothing to be done," he said. He sounded
quite cheerful again. "I'm sorry — ^but we shall have to
stay the night. I believe it's quite a comfortable inn.
Don't you wait, Wicklow."

Barry did not move.

232 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

"I've just been suggesting that I take — Miss Bentley
back to town in my car/' he said, smoothly. "She seems
anxious to return. I shall be delighted to take her if she
cares about it." He paused, he looked at his wife un-
emotionally. "But it's just as you like, of course," he
added.

There was a breathless silence; Hulbert had flushed
crimson ; he was no match for Barry, and he knew it

"It is for Miss Bentley to say," he said, savagely.

Hazel looked from one to the other. Barry was so
calm and indifferent; as if he cared nothing what she
decided. Hulbert — she shivered as she met his eyes.

Then she made a little impulsive step towards her
husband.

"I will go with you," she said.

Barry squared his shoulders.

"Very well — I am ready when you are." He went
out and called to his man. Hazel would have followed
him, but Hulbert barred the way.

"You know what this choice means," he said hoarsely.
"You've deliberately chosen between us. Hazel. . . ."

"Please let me pass."

She joined Barry outside in the darkness; she was
shivering in every limb. She stood quite close to him
while he drew on his coat and gloves. He went round
to the back of the car and brought a big rug for her.

"You'd better put this on; it will be cold." He
wrapped her in it till only her face was visible ; he tucked
her up warmly beside him. It was only a small two-
seater car.

"Northam will stay and come on in the morning," he
said. He glanced down at her. "Are you warm
enough ? Then we'll be off."

They drove some way in silence; the branches of the
tall trees on either side seemed to swoop down on them
as they rushed by. The cool night wind brought the
colour back stingingly to Hazel's sheeks.

It was Barry who spoke first.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 233

"I suppose you know that Hulbert jiggered that car
deliberately/' he said.

She echoed his words, not understanding.

"Jiggered it — deliberately? What do you mean?"

"That it was a pre-arranged thing. He did not mean
you to go back to town to-night. If I had not turned
up you would not have gone back to-night." His voice
broke angrily. "I told you what the fellow was and you
wouldn't believe me. I can't understand how you can be
such a little fool as to trust yourself with him. You seem
worldly-wise enough in some ways."

There was something brutal in the words and the way
in which he spoke them. Hazel's cheeks flamed in the
darkness.

"You never liked him. You're only too willing to be-
lieve the worst of him," she said sharply.

Barry laughed grimly.

"And you believe it, too," he said.

She cried out angrily.

"I don't ... I don't know how you dare say such
things."

"Then why didn't you stay with him? You could
have done if you wished. It would have made no dif-
ference to me."

His indifference stung her. She was thoroughly un-
nerved and miserable. She would have given anything
at that moment for a kind word, a little sympathy. But
Barry was in no mood to be kind.

"The sooner you stop this cursed independence the
better," he went on roughly. "I shan't always turn up
at the right moment to save you from your foolishness.
Some day you'll remember what I told you and wish
to heaven you'd followed my advice. Hulbert is a
damned cad."

"It seems as if all the men of my acquaintance are the
same," she interrupted bitterly. "Mr. Hulbert has not
treated me any worse than you did,"

"That's a woman's only argument — ^to rake up the past.

234 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

I'm not talking of myself; I quite recognise that I no
longer enter into the question, but it wouldn't be a pleas-
ant thing if you were to get mixed up in some scandal
with a worm like Hulbert; you're my wife, in spite of
everything, you know," he added grimly.

She did not answer. She would have given aniytiiing to
be able to turn and speak to him as he was speaking to
her, but the tears were raining down her face in the
darkness ; she was biting her lips hard to keep back the
sobs that threatened to choke her.

She hardly knew whether she loved this man or hated
him; her hands were clenched together under the big
rug; she knew she would die of shame if Barry knew
that she was crying — ^and for him !

He slowed down the engine.

"There are two roads here ; I am not sure which is the
one — it's so confoundedly dark."

He got out and walked a step or two away; when he
came back he spoke more gently.

"Are you warm enough? I think we've taken the
wrong road. I'm sorry . . . perhaps you think I'm
trying to play Hulbert's little trick on you." He stopped ;
he tried to see her face through the darkness.

"What's the matter?" he asked in a different voice.
"Are you — crying?"

A little sob escaped her.

"Yes, I am crying," she said in desperation. "I've
never been spoken to like this in all my life before. I
don't know how you'd dare do it."

Barry drew a long breath ; his hands were deep thrust
in his pockets.

"Women always cry if they are found fault with," he
said at last angrily. He got back to the seat beside her
and turned the car round.

"Tuck that rug up around you," he said after a mo-
ment. "It's as cold as winter." He buttoned his coat
collar more tightly round his throat. He drove the car
on again through the darkness.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 235

Hazel had dried her tears ; she sat silently beside him.
"I'm rather glad I ran across you to-night/' Barry said
presently. "I should have written to you if I hadn't

'Written to me?'

There was a little pathetic note of eagerness in her
voice, but Barry did not hear it.

"Yes. I've been thinking things over, and — ^well —
I can't see that it's any good going on as we are. It's
horribly unpleasant for both of us."

"What do you mean ?"

Barry moved a little in his seat.

"I mean that I've been talking things over with my
uncle. He's quite a decent old chap. I've put it to him
that — well, that we should be happier if things could be
altered — ^you and I, I mean — ^and — there is a way out —
if you'll consent, and, of course, you will."

"A way out ?" she echoed his words dully. "You mean
that — ^that — oh, what do you mean?" There was a thrill
of very real anguish in her voice now, but Barry was too
intent on his own emotions to heed anything else.

"I mean that we can undo this marriage," he said with
a sort of rush. "It has been done — I mean it can be
done. There need be no scandal. I'll just clear off
abroad for a time." He waited. "Well," he said, jerkily,
"what do you say?"

Hazel hardly heard him, she had closed her eyes, her
little feet were hard pressed to the floor of the car; she
felt incapable of speech or movement.

Once she had made this suggestion to Barry, and he
had been furiously angry — ^now !

"I'm quite willing to do all I can to make it easy for
you," he went on after a moment. "I'm not a penniless
devil like I was when I married you. Of course, I shall
give you an allowance. I should like you to go back
to your uncle. If you were free of me he would be only
too pleased to have you home, I am sure.

"It was never you he was angry with, but only me.

236 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

You'd be happier there than you ever will be in London."
He stopped, and went on again rather breathlessly. "Some
day you'll meet another fellow, a man who will make
you happy, a decent fellow you can trust and respect. I
— I should be only too glad to know you were happy."

Hazel tried to speak, but her lips felt as if they were
cut in ice. The cold rush of the night air seemed like a
thousand whispering voices mocking her.

With a desperate effort she recovered herself. She
opened her eyes ; she sat forward a little ; she even forced
a laugh.

"So you've fallen in with my suggestion at last," she
said, shakily. "If you remember, it was I who asked
you for my freedom — weeks ago."

Barry kept his eyes straight ahead.

"Yes, I suppose it would have saved a lot of time if
I'd agreed from the start," he said coolly. "However, it's
not too late." He gave a quick sigh. "It seems a pity
we couldn't manage to rub along together," he went on
in a very matter-of-fact voice. "We started off with too
much of a rush, I suppose."

"Marry in haste " Hazel said shakily.

They were on the London road again now, the villages
were closer together, there was more traffic.

Barry kept his attention on his driving. It was some
little time before he spoke again.

"You didn't go to Liverpool after all ?"

"No" — she forced a laugh — ^"I suppose they told you I
was ill."

"Greaves said something about it. I was sorry." The
words were a mere formality.

"Mr. Greaves was glad," she told him. "He never
meant me to go to Liverpool — it was — it was just a clever
way of advertising."

Her voice shook as she told her lie ; she told it badly,
but she felt she would die of shame if Barry suspected
the truth.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 237

He answered quite coolly.

"Is that so ? Greaves is a smart man."

They had turned into the Edgware Road now, con-
versation was no longer possible, it took all Barry's
attention to steer through the traffic; he did not speak
again till he stopped the car at Hazel's flat.

He opened the door and got out.

For a moment the thoughts of both of them went back
to that last time they had driven home together, to the
moment before the taxi stopped, and to that one kiss
that had meant nothing after all. Barry turned his head
sharply away, he had said good-bye to Hazel so many
times, but this was really the final.

He had said he would give her her freedom, and she
had accepted gladly. He had not the least idea how to
set about it ; he only knew hazily that such things were
done. He roused himself with an effort.

"I'll say good-bye, I expect you'll be glad to get in.
It's quite cold."

She was standing beside him on the path now. She
looked an odd little figure wrapped in his big rug.

"You'd better take this," she said.

She twisted herself out of it, and handed it to him.
For a moment their hands met.

There was a little silence, then Barry broke out,
roughly :

"And when you're rid of me, what are you going to do
with yourself then ?"

His voice only sounded harsh to her; she did not hear
Its underlying emotion ; she echoed his words flippantly.

"What am I going to do ? Oh, I don't know. I shall
try to make a name for myself, for one thing. Mr.
Greaves seems so sure that I have got a wonderful fu-
ture." Her voice dragged a little; she looked up at
Barry. "Thank you for bringing me home," she said.

He laughed ; he threw the rug on to the seat of the car.

"Oh, not at all. I hope you will be able to persuade

238 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

Hulbert to forgive me for taking you away." He

dragged off a glove and held his hand to her.
"Well, good night, and good-bye, too, I suppose."
She could not answer, but she gave him her hand, and

for a moment his fingers closed round it ; then he let her

go, and she turned and ran into the house.

CHAPTER XXXI

IT was quite early the following morning when Hul-
bert turned up at the flat.
He expected that Hazel would refuse to see him,
but, to his surprise, she greeted him calmly,

"You got back all right, then?"

He scowled.

"Yes, I got back. And you?"

She met his eyes steadily.

"It was only half-past nine when I got home," she
smiled, faintly. "You're very angry with me?"

"Angry, wouldn't you be angry ? I took you out, and
you left me for that fellow." His voice changed; he
caught her hand. "Hazel, it's got to come to a choice.
You can't keep us both eternally dangling at your heels.
You know I'm just mad about you. Do you think I
should have been as patient as this if I hadn't been ? Most
fellows would have cleared off when they found out how
you'd made a fool of them, about Wicklow, I mean ! I
hate Wicklow, and he knows it. I don't know if last
night was a put-up job."

Hazel freed herself.

"You know quite well it wasn't, and as for — Barry

" her voice quivered a little over her husband's name.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't think you would
be very jealous of him if you could have heard our con-
versation coming home last night."

He looked at her suspiciously.

"I don't know what you mean. You pretend that you
don't care for him, and that he doesn't care for you, but
I know he does. Do you think I'm a fool ? Do you think
I can't see by the way he looks at you ?"

239

240 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

Hazel was crimsoiL She covered her ears with her
hands.

"I won't listen if you're going to say such things/' she
said wildly. "You — don't know what you're talking
about He cares nothing for me, all he wants is to be
rid of me. He told me so."

Hulbert stared blankly.

"Rid of you ; Wicklow wants to be rid of you !"

She interrupted.

"Oh, don't talk about it. I want to forget it. It's so
— so humiliating." She tried to smile. "Oh, please,
please don't say any more."

She loved Barry. She had not known until last night
how well she had loved liinL If he had made one little
overture to her that last moment when they stood to-
gether in the darkness, she would have taken him, and
forgiven everything.

It had been like dying to have to turn away and leave
him there. She wondered if she would ever forget the
last thing he had said to her — ^the formality of his fare-
well.

"Well, good-night, and good-bye, too, I suppose."
She wondered vaguely what he meant to do — ^if Agnes
Dudley was in any way responsible for his sudden anxiety
to be free of her.

Hulbert was speaking again; his voice sounded incred-
ulous.

"But you can't dissolve a marriage unless. . . ."
He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, you know there's only
one thing. If there's another woman in the case." He
looked at her doubtfully.

Hazel did not answer; she knelt down on the big
skin rug by the fire and held her hands to the warmth.

She was so cold, so cold. She felt as if someone had
laid hands of ice about her body.

Hulbert followed her and laid his hand on her shoulder.

"So it wasn't really a choice between us last night," he
said, softly. He felt her shrink a little beneath his touch.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 241

She tried to laugfa.

"You're so impatient; you expect everything at once.
Oh, please — ^please don't !" He had stooped to kiss her,
but she pushed him away.

He laughed; he was not really annoyed; he believed
that Barry was no longer a serious rival. For the mo-
ment he was content ; he pulled up a chair and sat down
beside her.

"May I smoke?" He did not wait for permission.
"Have you seen Greaves to-day?" he asked.

"No— no, I haven't."

"Humph ! He's got something for you up his sleeve,"
he chuckled. "No, I'm not giving any secrets away."

Hazel turned a face momentarily flushed with eager-
ness.

"Oh, do tell me — what do you mean?"

He bent towards her.

"Give me a kiss, and I'll tell you."

Hazel tried to get away from him, but he held her
fast; she threw her head back as far from him as she
could.

"Oh, leave me alone — Cleave me alone !" She was sob-
bing with fright.

Someone rattled the door handle.

"Can I come in?" — it was Delia's voice.

Hulbert swore under his breath, but he let Hazel go.
She scrambled to her feet and rushed across the room.
For the first time in her life she was really delighted to see
her cousin.

Delia looked from one to the other quizzically. She
nodded to Hulbert, and took possession of the chair from
which he had risen.

"I've got a brute of a cold," she said. "Poke up the
fire, Laurie — or do you limit Hazel to coal?" She
laughed disagreeably. "What have you been doing all this
week?" she asked, looking at her cousin. "You never
come near me, I notice; I suppose you're too much oc-

242 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

cupied. Oh, don't let me send you off" — ^Hulbert had
muttered something about going.

"He hates me/' she coiiiided to Hazd when he had
gone. "I'm sorry if I spoilt sport."

"You didn't ; I am glad you came."

Delia stuck her feet up on the fender kerb, showing
an unnecessary expanse of silk ankle and high heels.

"Have you seen that husband of yours lately?" she
asked, suddenly.

"Yes — I saw him yesterday."

Delia looked round sharply.

"Yesterday!" her voice sounded incredulous. "Did
he come here ?"

"No, I met him by accident." Hazel's voice was low ;
she kept her head down-bent.

"Humph!" Delia dragged a cushion from beneath
fier head and flung it across the room. "What had he
got to say for himself?" she demanded.

Hazel looked away.

"I can't remember the exact words," she said, bitterly.
"But — ^but — well, you need not be surprised to hear that
— that — I'm not married any more."

Delia brought her feet down with a crash.

"I knew it I" she said triumphantly. "What did I tell
you? It's that Mrs. Dudley. I suppose he thinks she's
more suited to boss it down at Eresbie Hall than you are.
Well, you take my advice and get all you can out of him
before you let him go. He's a rich man now, and can
afford to pay up. If I were you "

She stopped short, staring at Hazel ; there was some-
thing tragic in the younger girl's face that even Delia's
sharp tongue was silenced for a moment. "Good Lord !"
she said 3ien, tonelessly. "You don't mean that you're
fond of him — fond of Barry Wicklow?"

Hazel covered her face with her shaking hands.

"Oh, I am, I am," she said brokenly. "But don't you
ever tell him ; don't you ever let him know, or-. I think I
shall die !"

CHAPTER XXXII

DELIA looked at Hazel with a queer expression in
her eyes. She had never cared for anyone se-
riously in all her life. She could not believe that
Hazel was serious.

She supposed that Barry's change of fortune was in
some way responsible for it. She stuck her feet up on
the fender again and stared at the fire.

"It's no use howling about it," she said, at last, un-
sympathetically. "There are thousands more men in the
world — ^better men than he is, and quite as rich. Even
Hulbert, who hates the idea of marriage more than any
man I know, would be only too pleased to say snap if
you said snip. As for Barry Wicklow ! Well, it hasn't
taken long for him to make up his mind that you're not
quite what he wants down at Eresbie Hall. I suppose it
was different when he didn't stand an earthly of ever
getting Norman's money. Don't let him down too lightly,
that's all. You get every halfpenny you can."

Hazel dried her eyes. She was used to Delia's worldly
wisdom by this time, but it always made her feel ashamed.
She stood up, stretching her arms wearily.

"Well, there's always the future," she said, rather
shakily. "And if Mr. Greaves isn't disappointed." Delia
laughed dryly.

"It's nothing to do with Greaves, my dear. Hulbert's
the one who's pulled all the strings, and don't you forget
it. He's paid up for you. He furnished this flat."

Hazel flushed indignantly.

"I furnished it myself out of my salary. I don't know
how you can say such a thing?"

"Your salary !" Delia echoed nastily. "What have you

243

244 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

done to earn a salary, I should like to know ! It's only
a matter of arrangement. Hulbert and Greaves could
both tell you that if they liked. You try throwing Hul-
bert over and see how much interest the other man will
take in you."

"I don't believe you. Mr. Greaves told me himself
that he was sure I had a great future in store for me."

Delia burst into shrill laughter.

"I like that ! Lord, how green you are ! A great fu-
ture! What as, for heaven's sake? Are you going to
be a second Ellen Terry, or a Bernhardt ?" She shrugged
her shoulders.

Hazel stood very still; there was a burning spot of
colour in her pale cheeks.

"I shall tell them both what you say," she said at
last. "I shall tell Mr. Greaves, and ask him if it's true."

"Do! I should! I dare say he'll persuade you that
I'm jealous and have just made it all up." She swung
round in her chair and leaned her arm on its wooden
back, looking at Hazel with a teasing smile. "You're
not the only one they've run between them," she said
more kindly.

"Bless your heart, they gave me a chance once, only
I didn't turn out to be the swan they expected! If I
had, I shouldn't be getting a living by my wits as I am
now, you bet your life! You'll be all right if you man-
age to strike it lucky. Your face may pull you through ;
you're pretty enough. By the way, that reminds me what
I came for. Are you doing anything to-night ?"

"No."

"All right. Well, I'll take you along with me. Topsy
St. Helier — ^you don't know her, by the way, do you ?"

"I think so. I've heard her name, but ''

"Well, she's having a supper-party to-night. She's
going on tour to-morrow, and she asked me to take you
along. They've all heard of you, of course, and between
you and me and the doorpost, my dear, Tops/s a bit

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 245

jealous of the way Greaves has taken you up. She was
his latest swan, you see, till you came. She's not a bad
sort ; you'll like her."

Topsy St. Helier ! Hazel tried to remember where she
had heard the name, but memory eluded her. She an-
swered with an effort that she would like to go ; she was
not in the least keen, really, but Bnytbing seemed better
than being left to herself.

She could not believe that what she had heard about
Hulbert was true, and yet the thought rankled. Sup-
posing in his heart Greaves did not really think she had a
future? \yas she to have ever3rthing taken from her?
She had so counted in having this to fill her life.

"It doesn't start till ten," Delia said. "What are you
going to wear? I'll call for you. It's no use being
shocked if it's a bit rowdy," she added, after a moment.
"Topsy can put away the champagne all right." She
chuckled reminiscently. "You'd better not come if you
feel prudish about it."

"Of course, I shan't ! I like champagne myself."

Delia chuckled; there was a vast difference between
champagne as drunk by Topsy and the little taste of it
which Hazel had ever permitted herself, but she had no
intention of saying so.

"Well, I'll come along for you. You can bring Hulbert
if you like."

"I don't want him," said Hazel, quickly.

Delia looked up.

"You looked friendly enough when I came in."

"We weren't — I — I — ^hate him. He was trying to kiss
me!" she added, indignantly.

Delia burst into shrill laughter.

"Oh, Lord !" she said helplessly. "How awful 1" There
was bitter irony in her voice ; Hulbert had once been her
property. The way he had calmly thrown her over for
Hazel had angered her more than anything.

She got up and sauntered round the room, staring at

246 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

the pictures and ornaments. Presently she said, with
feigned indifference:

"I don't know if I ought to tell you that Barry Wick-
low will probably be there to-night. He was rather a
pal of Topsy's at one time. If you don't want to meet
him you'd better not come."

Barry! Hazel caught her breath. She knew now
where she had heard Topsy St. Helier's name when she
first came to London.

"... When I went home in the small hours of
the morning your Barry Wicklow was dancing an Irish
jig on one of the tables with Topsy St. Helier." Delia's
words came back to her memory with appalling faith-
fulness. She forced herself to answer calmly.

"Oh, I shan't mind. After all, I shall have to get used
to meeting him, shan't I ?"

Delia laughed.

"Yes, that you will. It's queer the way you always
run up against the people you'd like to avoid. Gee ! I
wouldn't miss seeing his face to-night for worlds when he
meets you at Topsy's." She laughed immoderately. "He's
the sort of man who goes all over the show himself, but
he'd be wild if his women- folk did the same."

"It's nothing to do with him where I go," Hazel said,
stiffly, though her lips felt cold.

She hoped he would be there. She hoped he would be
furiously angry at meeting her. She quite made up her
mind that she would be as gay and lively as the rest.
That she would smoke and drink champagne, and do
what was being done by everyone else.

As the day wore on her excitement grew. Delia stared
at her curiously when she came to call for her that
night.

She touched Hazel's cheek with her finger.

"Rouge?" she asked, sharply.,

Hazel drew back defiantly. "Well, why not ? Every-
one else does it. Why shouldn't I ?"

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 247

Delia sniffed. "Everyone else hasn't got your skin,
my dear. However, if you think it improves you, keep
it on, by all means."

It did not improve her; It looked out of place and
horrible, and Delia knew it. But she said nothing, and
the two girls drove away together.

"We're a bit late," Delia said presently. "I meant
to be, too; I like to get to a place when they've all
warmed up, and someone else has taken the chill off
for me. I hope there'll be something decent to eat ; last
time I came she gave us a rotten supper."

Hazel had heard Delia talk in this strain before, and
it always made her feel disgusted. But to-night, it did
not seem to matter so much. She felt as if she herself
were being transported into Delia's world. She was quite
prepared to take things as she found them, without com-
ment.

"Topsy's got a ripping flat," Delia said presently.
"Nearly as good as yours. Here we are." She got out
before the taxi stopped and left Hazel to follow; as
usual, she haggled with the driver about his fare.

"They're all thieves, those men," she said, angrily, as
she followed Hazel into the house. Topsy's flat was on
the ground floor, and before the door was opened they
could hear the noise that was going on inside — the sing-
ing and laughter. Hazel's heart gave a little throb of
apprehension.

The small hatstand in the hall was crowded with men's
hat's and coats. A man in evening dress, with an eye-
glass, was crossing from one room to the other with a
tray laden with glasses and decanters. He said, "Hullo,
old thing !" to Delia and stopped for a moment to stare
at Hazel. Delia introduced them.

"This is Hazel — ^you've heard about her, of course!
Hazel, this is Jimmy Helder."

Jimmy did his best to bow, and nearly dropped the
tray in his efforts. "Wait till I've put this confounded

248 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

thing down/' he said. He sheered off into one of the
rooms.

A maid took the girl's wraps; she, too, stared at
Hazel with impertinent eyes. Hazel slipped her hand
through Delia's arm; her confidence was beginning to
desert her ; she felt horribly nervous. Delia looked down
at her and laughed.

"You're not frightened ! Rubbish ! Come and be in-
troduced."

She pushed Hazel before her into the room into which
Helder had vanished ; it was very hot and noisy and bril-
liantly lit.

Someone was thumping out ragtime at the piano with
the loud pedal down. The table had been pushed back
anyhow into a corner ; the centre floor was cleared ; peo-
ple were standing all round the walls clapping their
hands and beating time with their feet to the jerky tune.

In the centre a man and a woman were dancing; the
girl was dressed in scarlet, with purple flowers in her red
hair. The whole bizarre effect of the get-up was extra-
ordinary. She was wonderfully small and supple; her
little body seemed to bend as easily as a willow in the
wind.

The man who was her partner had his back turned to
the door where Hazel stood. He wore ordinary evening
dress, and a paper wreath was festooned round his neck.
There was an absurd toy squeaker in his mouth, which
he was blowing vigorously, and he flourished an empty
champagne bottle in one hand.

Hazel stared at the girl with fascinated eyes ; she had
never seen anyone in the least like her before. She
looked at the man, and suddenly she felt as if a rough
hand had seized her by the throat, choking the breath
from her body, for the man was Barry !

Just as she recognised him the dance ended abruptly;
the girl in the scarlet frock sank to the ground in an
exaggerated curtsey, her head drooping forward till her

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 249

forehead touched the floor ; then suddenly she sprang up
and laughed.

"You get more like a baby elephant every day," she
said to Barry. She caught his arm, swinging round by
it; then she saw Delia.

"Hullo, so you've come!" She danced over to her,

and stood on tip-toe to kiss her. "Where's the "

She stopped. Her eyes had fallen on Hazel. "Hullo !"
she said cheerily. She reached up and kissed Hazel too.
"Come and have some fizz; Barry!" Barry turned at
the insistent call, and across the room his eyes met his
wife's.

Perhaps it was the most tragic moment of all his life
as he stood there, head and shoulders above everyone
else in the crowded room, the absurd wreath hanging
round his shoulders, looking at Hazel. He could not be-
lieve his eyes, that she should be here of all places. It
was only in a fit of desperation that he had at last yielded
to Topsy's urgent voice over the 'phone, but already he
was sick of the noise and laughter; a moment ago he
had been wondering how soon he could make his ex-
cuses and go.

And now Hazel was here ; every nerve in his big body
seemed to quiver as he stood there. It was like some
horrible dream — Hazel with rouge on her cheeks. Hazel
in the midst of this Bohemian crowd.

Topsy pushed him aside unceremoniously.

"You're so slow. What's happened to you? Jimmy,,
open some more fizz; I'm just dried up."

Barry moved mechanically; he dropped the toy
squeaker to the floor and tore the wreath from his shoul-
ders.

Delia had drawn Hazel into the little crowd of her
own friends ; he could hear her laugh, a little nervous it
sounded. He could hear her voice — her dear, pretty
voice. And it came home to him with crushing force that
this was all his fault — that whatever happened to Hazel

250 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

in the future, it would be through him and his own abom-
inable selfishness.

He had tried to put her out of his life, but he knew
as he stood there with the blood throbbing in his temples
that, though he had promised to give her her freedom,
and led her to think that he did not care, he adored the
very ground she trod, and that without her he would
never again know a moment's happiness.

CHAPTER XXXIII

AFTER the first moment Hazel behaved as if she did
not know Barry was in the room.
Jimmy Helder attached himself to her at once.
He hung over her chair most affectionately; he in-
sisted that she had a sip from his glass before he touched
it himself. Afterwards he tossed it off with exaggerated
enjoyment. When, later, they went in to supper, he sat
down beside her at the table and refused to move, in
spite of all Topsy St. Helier could say, and she could
say a great deal when she liked.

"Other people besides you want to talk to Hazel," she
said. "Don't flatter yourself that you're the only pebble
on the beach. Tell him to go. Hazel."

But Hazel had no intention, of obe3ring; she looked at
Helder with a smile.

"Oh, but I like him to stay," she said.

The remark was greeted with a roar of laughter.
Delia looked annoyed. She had brought Hazel here this
evening because she knew that Barry would be there,
and because she wanted to anger him. She had not
counted on Hazel getting so much attention.

"WTien you know him better you'll be glad not
to share the same world with him," she said smartly.
"He's one of those people who put all their goods in the
shop window ; there's nothing left to discover when you
get in the shop itself."

Hazel did not mind in the least. She was quite indif-
ferent to Helder or his attentions. All she cared about
was to have someone apparently devoted for Barry to

see.
She did her best to be amusing; she laughed at

251

252 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

every joke the man beside her made, although she did
not think any of them funny. She let him whisper to
her and keep his arm along the back of her chair; she
had come to Rome, and she meant to do as the Romans
did, or die in the attempt.

The second glass of champagne made her feel giddy.

"It was such muck, that's why," Delia said afterwards
inelegantly. "Tops/s getting a mean little pig. She
might have given us decent fizz, an)rway."

Hazel didn't know decent fizz from inferior; she only
knew that it made her head ache violently. Hitherto
she had avoided looking at Barry, though he sat right
opposite to her. But after a while she began to feel that^
it did not matter.

She was glad that he looked pale and preoccupied; she ,
hoped he was shocked at finding here there. After sup-
per, when they all trooped back to the other room, she
slipped a hand through Topsy St. Heller's arm.

"I'm so glad to have met you," she said, deliberately.^
"I've heard such a lot about you." She hadn't heard a
thing, except that one casual remark of Delia's, but she
knew Barry was close behind them, and that he was
listening.

Topsy responded with rather artificial warmth; she
said she was sure they would be great pals. She seemed
to become aware all at once of Barry's lumbering figure
hovering near. She turned to him.

"You haven't spoken to Hazel. What's come over
you ? You're about as cheerful as a f tmeral." She pinched
his arm. "This is our Barry," she said to Hazel. "I
don't suppose you know him."

"Oh, yes I do ; we've met several times," Hazel said.
She raised defiant eyes to his face. "But he doesn't ap-
prove of me; he thinks I've had my head turned since 1
came to London."

"He's an old stick-in-the-mud," Topsy declared. "No-
body takes him seriously at all ; but I Imow him^ ^.4 Wr
derstand him^ and he's quite a dear^ really."

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 253

Barry listened in helpless silence ; he hated Topsy. He
had never realised how common she was till he saw her
standing arm in arm with Hazel.

He wondered what would happen if he picked Hazel
up and carried her off then and there, out of the noise
and glare, away from the popping of corks that seemed
never to stop, and the suffocating fumes of cigarette
smoke.

Topsy waltzed off into the middle of the room; she
was never still for more than a moment together, she
was so full of vitality and energy. Her whole little body
looked as if it were strung together with fine wires.

For the moment Barry and Hazel were comparatively
alone; she seemed to realise it, and made a movement
as if to leave him, but he stopped her.

"Who brought you here?" he asked, tensely.

She raised her eyes — ^such bright eyes they were, shin-
ing with an unnatural excitement.

"Brought me ! Nobody ! I came of my own wish."

"I don't know how you dared," he said tmder his
breath.

She laughed, shrugging a white shoulder.

"Why shouldn't I ? If it's good enough for you, surely
it's good enough for me?"

"It's very cUfferent — a man may do things a woman
cannot; besides, it's no pleasure to me to be here."

Her lip curled scornfully.

"You seemed to be enjoying yourself when I came in."

He flushed hotly.

"Oh, that ! it was just fooling ! I should not have stayed
to supper if you had not come in. I hate this crowd —
I hate the life they lead."

"I like it ; I think it's great fun," she said deliberately.

Across the room Helder was signalling to her wildly.
"Come and dance — come and dance with me, little coun-
try girl."

Barry's hand closed like a vice on her wrist

"You're not to go; I forbid it; I hate that fellow.

254 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

• »

He's not fit for you to associate with. Let me take you
home, Hazel, I beg of you."

Her eyes flashed ; she darted across the room to where
Helder stood against the wall as if he were not quite
sure of his feet. Barry saw him clasp her round the waist
and the next moment they were dancing together in the
centre of the room.

"She takes to it like a duck to water — eh?" said
Delia beside him ; she climbed up on to a ch^r and sat
down on the back rail, her feet resting on the seat. She
blew a puff of cigarette smoke up into Barry's white face.

He looked down at her with furious eyes.

"This is your doing," he said under his breath.

"Mine?" she raised her darkened brows; she made
a little grimace, "My dear boy, don't you realise that
the time is past when I could teach Hazel anything? I
warned her what to expect if she came here to-night,
and she would come. I told her you would be here, and
she said she didn't care a damn if you were."

"She never said that?"

"She did — ^not quite in my poetic language perhaps,
but she meant the same thing," she broke off. "Look at
them ! Bet you didn't know Hazel could dance like that,
eh?"

Barry glanced at the two in the centre of the room,
and away again ; it made him feel sick to see Hazel with
Helder's arms round her. Helder was quite a good chap
in his way, and Barry had always rather liked him till
to-night, but he knew now that he would never care for
any of this Bohemian crowd again.

He felt as if hitherto he had only seen them all from
across the footlights, and that to-night he had been
taken round behind the scene, and shown the gaudiness
and tawdriness of it all, the grease-paint and the make-
up, and artificiality. Helder was holding Hazel by the
waist, both his hands on her slender hips, and as Barry
looked, he swung her off her feet, catching her under
one arm as if she had been a child.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WIC3CLOW 255

Delia clapped her hands and stamped her high-heeled
shoes on the seat of the chair.

"Go it;" she said shrilly; "you'll have them all beaten
to fits with a bit of practice." She looked round to see
how Barry was taking it, but he had gone. He went out
of the room and across the untidy passage to the de-
serted supper-room.

The lights were still flaring,, several chairs were over-
turned, the table was strewn with torn paper crackers
and empty bottles. The whole room had very much of
the "morning after" look about it.

Barry had seen it in a similar condition many times
before, and thought nothing of it, but to-night every-
thing was different. He kicked a chair out of his way
and went across to the fireplace, leaned his elbows on
the mantelshelf, and pressed his hands over his eyes.

Across the narrow passage came the din from the other
room, shrill voices and laughter, and the sound of danc-
ing feet.

Presently the piano started again, and a man's loud
unmusical voice broke into song.

"Ginger — Gin-gah! — they call me Captain Gin-gah!"

The refrain was taken up by a roaring chorus.

Barry covered his ears. However had he thougl^t it
in the very least amusing, he asked himself bitterly, and
yet once he had. He had bawled out choruses as loudly
as any of them ; he had turned night into day, and gone
home in the dawnlight afterwards, having thoroughly
enjoyed himself.

It made him writhe now to think that Hazel must
know it, too. He had toppled from his pedestal long
since, and, the worst part of it all was that he had
dragged her down with him.

But for him she would never have been here to-night.
She would never have known Helder, or Topsy St.
Helier, or any of the others who were making such a
fuss of her, and slowly, but surely, making her one of
themselves.

256 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

The door he had half-closed behind him was suddenly
pushed wide and Topsy entered. The purple flowers
which she wore in her red hair were all disarranged and
hung with untidy picturesqueness on one side. The
reckless look in her eyes softened as she saw Barry.
She crossed the room on tip-toe and stole her hand
through his arm.

"What's up, old chap?"

Barry started and tried to laugh.

"Nothing. I've got a rotten headache. I say, what an
awful row they're making."

She laughed, though there was an anxious expression
in her eyes as she looked at him.

"Yes; they sound pretty lively." She slipped a hand
into Barry's coat pocket and helped herself to a cigarette
from his case.

"Got a match?" she held up her face invitingly, with
the cigarette between her lips, but Barry did not notice
the obvious invitation. He found a box, and, striking
one, held it to her.

She frowned.

"You're slow to-night. What's the matter, an)rway?"

"I told you ; I've got a rotten head."

"Poor old boy!" she laid her hand on his arm again,
and there was a little silence.

From the next room the rowdy chorus broke out
afresh.

"Ginger, Gin-gah! They call me Captain Gin-gah!"

Topsy laughed ; she pirouetted round the room, in and
out of the chairs and tables, on the tips of her toes, keep-
ing time to the music; she came back to where Barry
stood.

"I say, what price the Hazel-nut!" she said. "Delia
told me she was such a prude! She doesn't seem very
prudish to-night."

Barry turned sharply away.

"Do you think she's pretty?" Topsy pursued. "I sup-
pose she is, Hulbert raves about her ; but she's a bit too

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 257

fair for my taste. I like a woman with more sparkle,
don't you ?'

He did not answer, and she screwed her head under
his arm trying to see his face.

The roar and rollicking chorus came nearer ; the door
of the room opposite burst open, and the rowdy pro-
cession issued, singing and keeping time with their feet
to the music.

They crossed the hall and came on to the room where
Barry and Topsy. stood ; Barry roused himself with an
effort.

Helder and another man came first; they were both
very flushed and excited; they were carrying Hazel in a
sedan-chair between them. They went the length of
the room and round the table, followed by the rest of the
party, all singing at the top of their voices ; they finally
came to a standstill close to Barry.

Here the two men lowered their arms for Hazel to
get down, but just as her feet touched the ground Helder
caught her round the waist, and bending towards her
snatched a kiss.

"That's just on account," he said, excitedly. "The
rest "

He never finished his sentence. Barry had got him
by the coat collar very much as a big retriever would
shake a kitten; he shook him till his teeth rattled, then he
let him go so violently that he fell backwards against the
table, scattering plates and glasses all around him.

Hazel screamed; half-a-dozen men made a rush at
Barry. Topsy St. Helier clutched his arm.

"Barry! Barry! What are you doing? You must be
mad!"

He shook her off; his face was crimson; the veins
stood out like cords on his forehead; he looked at Helder
with blazing eyes.

"You damned little rat • , . Ill teach you ...
Ill . . ."
^ "Barry . . ." It was Hazel who stopped him now

258 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

— ^Haxel who tried to hold him back, dinging to his
shoulders.

There was a moment of tragic silence; Topsy broke it
with a shrill question.

"What's she got to do with you? What's she got to
do with you, I say?" She was white with jealousy; her
eyes blazed as she looked from Hazel to Barry Wicklow.

It was Delia who answered — Delia, who of them all
yras quite unconcerned and merely amused.

"She's his wife/' she said calmly. "Didn't you know ?"

CHAPTER XXXIV

IT made quite a melodramatic tableau, Delia thought
afterwards as she looked back on the scene.
The disordered supper-table, the broken glasses,
Barry standing there like some infuriated giant, with
dendied fists and blazing eyes, Topsy in her bizarre
dress, and Hazel — ^white, startling white, in spite of her
rouge.

Delia was thoroughly enjoying* it. Jimmy Helder was
one of her pet aversions, and though she disliked Barry,
she was delighted that he had set about the younger man,
and in spite of herself she felt a thrill of admiration for
him. Perhaps, after all, he was not the easy-going, frivo-
lous man she had imagined; there was certainly some-
thing very primitive in his anger, very real in his agita-
tion.

Topsy took a step towards him, she caught his arm in
vixenish fingers, her brown eyes blazed.

"Is it true — ^is she your wife?"

Barry shook her off.

"Yes."

She promptly burst into tears, violent hysterical tears
that Barry had experienced before ; he turned to Hazel.

"Come home out of this place," he said roughly. He
never dreamed for a moment that she would refuse ; his
own emotion was so deep that it seemed impossible she
could be feeling nothing towards him but anger ; it was
like a blow in the face when she drew back from him.

"My home is not with you; I will not leave here in
your company."

His hand fell to his side; he looked rather dazed, his
qres wandered round the crowded room at the flushed,

259

260 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

curious faces. Then he half-laughed; he shrugged his big
shoulders and turned on his heel — ^he went out of the
room and out of the flat, and they heard the door slam
behind him.

The sound seemed to rouse Topsy ; she stopped scream-
ing and clenched her hands, ^king them above her
head.

"Beast, beast, I hate him," she said violently. She
pushed Delia away. "Oh, leave me alone; you knew all

the time, and you never told me; and as for you "

She looked at Hazel as if she could have killed her.
"I never want to see you again ; I knew you were sly ; I
knew there was something deep behind that white face
of yours."

Hazel was trembling from head to foot; she felt as if
in the last ten minutes she had been roughly awakened
out of sleep. It was impossible that she had ever been en-
joying herself with this crowd, that she had ever thought
there was anything attractive about Topsy St. Helier,
or, indeed, any of them. Everyone in the room was an-
tagonistic to her ; nobody cared that she was terrified to
death.

She looked appealingly at Delia; her lips were quiver-
ing, her eyes were full of frightened tears.

"You'd better come home," Delia said shortly. She
asked one of the men to fetch a cab, she brought Hazel's
coat and threw it down at her feet, she swept out of the
room with her head in the air.

Though she had thoroughly enjoyed herself, she was
going to make Hazel pay for it. As soon as tfiey were
safely out of the house she told her what she thought
of her.

"I don't wonder Barry Wicklow was wild, letting Hel-
der carry on with you like that. I thought you were such
a prude. People with innocent eyes like you are always
the worst. Of course, Barry was wild; even if he doesn't,
care two straws about you, you're his wife, and he's got
the family name to think about. I should think to-

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 261

night's about put the tin lid on," she went on inelegantly.
"He's washed his hands of you, you mark my words."

"I hope he has ; I hate him."

"You were crying your eyes out for him this morn-
ing," Delia reminded her ironically. "Perhaps you're
going to transfer your affections to Helder. I don't ad-
mire your taste if you are; he's an outsider, if ever there
was one. I shouldn't have believed you'd got it in you,
that I shouldn't ; only known the man an hour, and letting
him kiss you."

"I didn't; how dare you say such things! I didn't
know what he was going to do. I'm glad Barry hit him;
he deserved it."

Delia had snuggled closer into her wraps.

"Well, you've finished Topsy, once and for all," she
said, with a sort of satisfaction. "She's dead sweet on
Barry, and always has been."

"I don't need to be told that," said Hazel, fiercely.
"It was quite obvious when we came in." She shivered,
recalling Barry as she had seen him then. "Well, if he's
disgusted with me, so am I with him, so we're quits,"
she added, defiantly. "And, as for Topsy St. Helier, I
never want to see her again 1" Her tone of scorn made
Delia furious.

She leaned forward, and in the light of the taxicab,
her face was red and convulsed.

"That's right! Run my friends down now you've
insulted them," she stormed. "Topsy's as good as you
are, and better! You go to her house and eat her sup-
per and then end up by making a scene."

"It was not my fault. I had nothing to do with it."

"It was your fault. Do you think I can't see through
you? Do you think I'm such a fool that I couldn't see
you were trying to make Barry Wicklow jealous! Try-
ing for all you were worth, you were! And it didn't
come off — not in the way you wanted. He was furious
because you're his wife, that's all, and because he was
ashamed of you and the way you were going on."

262 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

"I wish I wasn't. I hate being married to him. I
never want to see him again." Hazel felt utterly crushed
and wretched. She was bitterly ashamed of the whole
evening.

She knew there was truth in what Delia said. She
had tried to make Barry jealous. She had deliberately
led Helder on. But never for one moment had she
dreamed that Barry would make such a scene. Her whole
body seemed scorching as she recalled that moment.
Topsy's hysterical tears, the crowd of curious faces
and Barry.

What had driven her to answer him, as she had done?
She wondered miserably if she had had too much cham-
pagne. She felt as if this evening had soiled her in a
way from which she would never recover. Even Delia
despised her. She wished she could die.

"It's no use upsetting yourself over what's done,"
Delia said, more pleasantly, after a moment. She had
had her say and was feeling better. "Hulbert will be
furious when he knows. He hates Topsy. You'd better
not say an3rthing about it."

"I shall tell him. I shall tell him directly I see him."

Delia let down the window with a jerk.

"Yes, you're little fool enough even for that," she
said curtly. She kicked the door open. "Here we are,
you'd better go to bed and try and forget it. No, I'm not
coming in — ^good-night— -drive on, cabby." Hazel stood
there on the path looking after the vanishing cab with
frightened eyes. She dreaded being left to her self.
Delia might have stayed, she thought. After a moment she
turned and, still sobbing, let herself into the flat.

It was past midnight — ^a clock struck the quarter as
she shut the door after her.

The flat felt horribly empty and lonely, as she turned
on all the lights, and went to her room.

The sight of her reflection momentarily checked her
tears, she looked so woe-begone, the vivid rouge patches
on her cheeks stood out in ugly contrast to the whiteness

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 263

of her face. She nibbed it off energetically, she took
off her frock, and threw it down. She sat down on the
side of the bed and sobbed and sobbed broken-heartedly,
the tears running down her cheeks.

She hated Delia, she hated her sneering voice and hard
eyes, she hated Barry. He had only asked her to leave
with him because he was ashamed that his wife should be
in Topsy St. Helier's flat.

He had been there many times, no doubt; and if it
was good enough for him, surely it was for her, she told
herself, with woeful ignorance of the world's teaching
that there shall be one law for a man and another for a
woman.

The window of her room was open, and outside she
could hear the night air rustling in the leaves of the one
tree that had managed to take root, and grow in the
apology for a garden behind the block of flats.

The little soft sound reminded her of Bedmund, and
the woods of Qeave Farm, and for one sickening mo-
ment she longed with all her heart and soul to be back
there, and find that nothing of this delirium had ever
happened.

To be back there with Barry — ^to meet the worshipful
look of his eyes, to know that he loved her because she
was so different to all the women he had known in Lon-
don before he ever met her.

That had been her greatest hold on him, and she had
flung it away; she had tried to kill all that he had loved
in her; she had done her best to be like Delia and her
friends ; because in the beginning he had deceived her.

It was no excuse for what she had done. He had
fallen from the pedestal to which her love had exalted
him, and she had let him drag her down with him.

A faint sound out in the passage startled her, she
stopped sobbing to listen. It was so late — surely nobody
coidd be about at this time of night. She got up from
the bed and tip-toed across the room to the door. The
light was full on in the passage and in the sitting-room;

264 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

it must have been plainly visible through the glass pan-
els ; she held her breath.

The little sound came again, like a footstep. It was
followed by a gentle knock at the room.

Hazel did not move, she did not know why she was
so frightened. In the ordinary way she would have gone
to the door and opened it unhesitatingly, but something
seemed to tell her that it was Barry, and she dreaded
him more than anyone on earth just then.

She slid her hand along the wall and put out the
light, she could hear the agitated beating of her own
heart in the darkness, as against the glass door panels
she could see the big silhouette cast by a man's figure.

It was Barry, nobody else had quite that powerful
lumbering look, nobody else had just those wide shoul-
ders.

She stood still, hardly daring to breathe ; she knew he
was listening for a sound within ; she wondered what he
wanted with her, and why he had come.

It seemed hours instead of minutes as she stood there
pressing back against the wall, and then at last she saw
him move away and heard his slow step descending the
stairs.

Hazel drew a long breath of relief, she almost ran
down the passage to the room where her maid slept;
she woke the girl urgently; she tried to make the
excuse that she had thought she heard her calling, her
little face looked white and scared.

The girl was good-natured; she saw the distress in
Hazel's eyes and marks of recent tears.

She made hot coffee and brought it to Hazel's room;
she talked away as if it were nothing unusual.

"I suppose nobody has called ?" Hazel asked presently.
"Not Mr. Greaves, or— or Mr. Hulbert ?"

"No, Miss, nobody. Mr. Hulbert 'phoned once, but I
told him you were out. He asked where you had gone,
and I said with Miss Delia. He seemed rather annoyed,
but he said no more/'

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 265

Hazel thought of what Delia had said that morning
about her future and Hulbcrt's influence. She quite
meant to ask him how true it was when they met again.

Greaves certainly seemed to have lost interest in her
during the past few days. It would be a crushing blow
if, on top of everything else, the future that had been
painted to her in such glowing colours suddenly faded
into nothingness.

She lay awake for hours in the darkness, thinking of
the evening and what had happened. It was nearly day-
light when she fell asleep. When she woke the maid
had just come into the room and was drawing the
blinds.

"You were sleeping so soundly," she apologised. "It
seemed a shame to wake you."

She brought breakfast and a bundle of letters. The
top-most one of all was unstamped, and had evidently
come by hand.

It was addressed in Greaves' writing, and Hazel's
heart beat a little faster as she took it up.

"A boy brought it half-an-hour ago," the maid told
her. "He said it was urgent."

Hazel broke open the flap. Greaves had written in a
hurry, evidently; the writing was scrawly:

"Dear Hazel, — I have been thinking things over,
and have finally decided to give you a trial nm on Sat-
urday night as an extra turn at the Pantheon. I hope
you are feeling fit. I shall come along to see you some-
time during the day. It ought to be a fine send-off for
you, and hope you will like the arrangement. — ^Yours,
H. J. Greaves."

CHAPTER XXXV

BARRY left Topsy St. Helier's flat hardly knowing
what he was doing. He walked along through the
darkness, carrying his hat and coat just as he had
picked them up from a chair in the hall.

He was conscious only of rage — overwhelming rage
— against his wife, against Jimmy Helder, against the
whole world.

He who had always gone his own careless way, done
as he liked, and considered nobody, was down and out at
last. He felt that every hand was against him as he
strode on through the darkness.

Topsy's shrill voice and Delia's unpleasant smile
haunted him. He hated them both. Hazel's white face
stood out against the background of all that noise and
revelry with cutting disdain.

Of course, she thought the worst of him.

At a street comer he cannoned into a man — z big'
man, who cursed him mildly, and then stopped short with
an exclamation of recognition.

"Wicklow ! What the deuce "

It was Greaves. In the light of a street lamp dose
at hand he could see Barry's face distinctly.

Greaves had a kindly heart somewhere amongst his
other various possessions, and something in the expres-
sion of Barry's eyes touched him.

"What's up?" he asked again. "And why on earth
don't you put your hat on?"

Barry roused himself with an effort; he tried to laugh.
"I don't know — ^what's the matter — ^where are you go-
ing, anyway?"

Greaves heard the unnatural jerkiness of his voice.
He answered promptly:

266

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 267

<*T>-

99
t9

I'm going to take you along to my place to get a
drink. Oh, yes, you are coming," he added, as Barry
began to refuse. He slipped a hand through the younger
man's arm. "Rot! — don't tell me you're not thirsty;
it's about the first time in your life, then."

Barry gave in ; they were quite close to Greaves' rooms.
Greaves switched on the lights and poked the fire to a
blaze. He fetched whisky and soda and mixed some for
Barry. As he passed it over he noticed that Barr/s
knuckles were torn and bleeding. He gave a low whistle.

"Whose beau^ have you been spoiling?" he asked.

Barry glanced down at his hand. He laughed self-
consciously.

"Half a dozen people will be telling you to-morrow,
so I may as well be there first," he said. He wrapped
his handkerchief clumsily round the torn knuckles. "It
was round at Topsy's. I gave Helder one to go on with.
He stopped, then added curtly: "He kissed my wife!

Greaves was raising his glass to his lips, but his
arm was arrested half-way.

"Your wife?" he said, blankly. "Oh, you mean little
Hazel?"

"Yes; she's my wife, no matter whether we hit it or
not ; and if Helder or any other man think they can take

liberties " his voice had risen fiercely. He stopped.

He got to his feet and shrugged his shotilders. "You
don't want to hear my troubles — I'm sorry."

Greaves drained his glass and set it down.

"Humph! So it's like that, is it? he said, quietly.

"Yes, it is."

Barry went back to his chair, the elder man watching
him.

"I suppose," he submitted then, whimsically, "I sup-
pose that you'd like a chance to use your fists on me as
well, eh?"

Barry did not answer.

"You've probably been cursing me to all eternity for
inducing her to go on the stage, eh?"

268 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

Barry's face flamedL

Yes, I have, since you ask," he said violantly.
You're ruining her between you — ^you and Hulbert, and
all the rest of your damned crowd. She never had a
thought beyond — ^beyond, well, me and being happy, till
she fell in with you. You've filled her head witii rub-
bish, you've told her she's going to be a success, and I
tell you that she never will be. She hasn't got enough
assurance, she hasn't got anything that will make her a
success, unless mere prettiness will do it. She's set her
mind on going on now because you've urged her. If she
fails she'll try again because you or Hulbert will tell her
that everybody fails to start with.

"But that's all rot, and you know it is. Look at Topsy !
She'd made her name before she'd been on the stage five
minutes ; she was born to it ; she's got all the cheek, and
— and " He broke off, meeting the other man's eyes.

Greaves carefully cut and lit a cigar. There was a
moment of silence, then he said, quietly:

"I never knew you were such a good judge of charac-
ter, Wicklow."

Barry coloured. "I suppose you're pulling my leg."

"I'm not in the least. As a matter of fact, I think
you're right in everything you say. I've always thought

so.

Barry stared. "You mean — ^you mean — what the devil
do you mean?" he asked, irritably.

Greaves pulled up a chair and sat down.

"Look here, my boy," he said. "I'm going to talk
to you like a father. It's no business of mine whether
you and your wife hit it or not, but I'm as cute as most
people, and from the way you're upsetting yourself I
suppose you think something of her. She's a dear little
girl, I'm fond of her — oh, you needn't glare like that,"
he added, as Bany began to look angry. "There's no
harm in my affection for her, or I shouldn't be telling
you about it, you bet your life. You're right in what

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 269

you say; she'll never make a success on the stage, and
IVe known it all along."

Barry hardly knew if he were angry or relieved, and
the other man went on.

"Hulbert introduced her to me. He wanted me to do
something for her; you know his way. He thinks money
can do anything. I'm an older man, and I know it can't.
Hazel's pretty enough; she'd get over the footlights all
right if all the audience expected her to do was to smile
at them and look pretty. She hasn't got a bad little voice,
either, and she dances quite nicely, but " He shrug-
ged his heavy shoulders. "She hasn't got the cheek ! I'm
using your own word. She hasn't got the 'bite,' if you
understand me." He paused. "And you may congratu-
late yourself that she hasn't," he added, dryly.

"You've never told her this. You've led her to be-
lieve — ^to expect that " Barry stopped. "I suppose

you're going to give her a chance and let her fail. Is
that it ?" he asked again, bitterly.

Greaves did not answer.

"If s a rotten trick, an)nvay," Barry went on, hotly.
"She ought to be told. I shall tell her myself."

"My dear boy, she won't believe you. People never do
when they're stage-struck. I've given up trying to tell
them. They only look sorry for me and go off to some-
one else. Your wife has got to learn her lesson the same
as the rest; and Hulbcrt's got to learn it, too. It's just
a case where one has to be cruel to be kind."

Barry began pacing the room. He knew that Greaves
had spoken truthfully when he said that Hazel would
not believe him. She was so sure in her own mind that
she would make a success.

Greaves refilled Barry's glass.

"And what's she going to do when she knows the
truth?" Barry asked, hoarsely. "It will break her heart.
She's quarrelled with her people; she hates the sight of

me.

270 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

Greaves smiled.

"Ah, well," he said smoothly. "It's not a bad thing
to begin with a little aversion, and there is such a thing
as affection being caught in the rebound, you know."

Barry laughed grimly. "Not for me, I'm afraid. I
treated her rottenly to start with; indirectly all this is
my fault."

He came back to where the elder man sat.

"Tell me what you're going to do," he urged, agi-
tatedly. "You've got some idea in your head, I know, and
if Hazel "

But Greaves only shook his head. "You'll have to
let things take their natural course, my boy ; it's no use
trying ta force matters." He held out his hand. " 'Pon
my word, Wicklow, I believe I really rather like youg
after all."

Barry laughed. "Well, you're about the only one of
my acquaintances who does, then," he said, constrainedly.
"I've made more enemies during the past month than
ever in my life before."

But he felt considerably cheered. It was early morn-
ing when he left Greaves.

If Hazel were a failure ! The thought gave him a pang.
He did not want her to fail ; it would hurt him more than
anything in the world to know of her disappointment.
And yet, on the other hand, if she were to succeed it
meant an eternal barrier between her life and his.

Supposing Greaves were not to be trusted; supposing
he was the sort of man who ran with the hare and
hunted with the hounds? What was a man to believe?

He passed a wretched night. One moment he wished
he had never seen Greaves, and the next moment he was
sure that Greaves would prove a friend. He stayed in
bed late the next morning. His head ached miserably;
it made him hot all over to think of that scene at Topsy's
flat. Whatever happened he would never go there any
more ; that part of his life was wiped out for ever.

In the afternoon he strolled round to the club. He

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 271

wondered if it were his imagination that several men he
met looked at him rather quizzically. No doubt, Jimmy
Helder had been talking. He stayed half-an-hour, and
went back home again; he spent the rest of the day in-
doors.

He felt at a loose end, and yet he had the feeling that
something of importance was going to happen ; that soon
something definite would put an end one way or the other
to the torment of these past weeks.

But Friday passed, and nothing did happen, and Barry
began to wonder if perhaps it would not be as well to
pack a bag and go off home for the week-end. He knew
that his uncle and aunt would be glad to have him, and it
would be better than sticking about in London and not
knowing how to kill time.

But it was only after lunch that he made up his mind.
He was looking up trains when the 'phone rang sharply.
It was Greaves.

"I looked for you at the club last night," he said.
"What's happened to you?"

Barry scowled. "Nothing. I was there in the after-
noon. What do you want? I'm just going away for the
week-end."

He distinctly heard the little exclamation of surprise
from the other end of the 'phone.

"Going away! Surely you'll be at the Pantheon to-
night?"

"The Pantheon!" Barry echoed, irritably. "Why in
the world should I ? With all respects to you, I'm dead
sick of music-hall shows, and What do you say?"

Greaves laughed. "Oh, I thought you'd be interested
to-night, anyway," he said. "I'm putting your wife on as
an extra turn !"

At the Pantheon ! Barry Wicklow's heart seemed to
give a great thump and then stand still.

He knew what the Pantheon was — ^knew how cele-
brated it was for its all-star performances — and a hor-
rible feeling of apprehension went through him.

272 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

Supposing Hazel failed. The risk was enormous; he
could not bear to think of it. He had once seen a girl
hissed off the stage at a music-hall, heard the shouts of
derisive laughter that followed her frightened exit, and
it turned him cold to think that perhaps something like
this lay in store for Hazel.

This altered everything. He threw the time-table
down. After this there could be no question of going
down to Eresbie Hall ; he would go to the Pantheon.

He thought of Greaves' admission last night. In his
heart, Greaves, too, thought she would fail. It seemed
sheer cruelty to allow her to go on knowing that ; surely
there was some way of stopping her, or persuading her
to give up the idea.

He turned his steps towards Hazel's flat. When he
rang the bell and asked to see her, he saw the obvious
hesitation in the maid's face. Miss Bentley was resting;
she had said she was not to be disturbed.

"Just tell her I have called," Barry urged, earnestly.
"I won't worry her; tell her it's very important. My
name is Wicklow."

The girl knew his name right enough. She went away
hesitatingly. After a moment she came back. Miss
Bentley was sorry, but she could see nobody.

The hot blood beat to Barry's face.

"I'm not going till I have seen her," he said, obsti-
nately. He passed the girl and stepped into the hall. It
was quite obvious that he meant to do as he said.

The girl shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "Miss
Bentley will be very angry."

"I will take all tiie blame," Barry said.

Hazel had heard the raised voices in the hall. She came
to the door of her sitting-room; she was fully dressed,
and held a book in her hand. Evidently she had made the
excuse of resting so as not to see him.

"I told you I was not at home to anyone," she began.
She looked at the girl angrily.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 273

Barry stepped forward. "It's not her fault, I forced
my way in."

It seemed useless to resist. She led the way back into
the room silently.

Barry shut the door. He was very pale, and there was
a strained look in his eyes.

"I shouldn't have come," he began, roughly, "only —
Greaves tells me you are going on at the Pantheon to-
night,"

She coloured a little.

"I am, yes ; though what it has to do with you. . . ."

"It has everything to do with me. Oh, don't think I've
come here to quarrel with you, or rake up the past. It's
all as completely forgotten as if it had never existed. I —
I only want to speak to you for your own sake. Hazel,
you don't know what you are doing, you don't know what
the Pantheon audiences are, they're used to first-rate ar-
tists. Oh, don't mistake me." He rushed on, as she drew
away from him ofFendedly. "But you're not experienced
— ^how can you be ? You've no idea what an ordeal it is.
You've never walked on the stage in your life. Give it
up, Hazel, before it's too late. Give it up for your own
sake, if not for mine, I beg of you."

She laughed bitterly.

"Because I'm your wife, you mean. You are afraid
that I shall do something that will make people talk and
laugh about me." She raised her head proudly. "I'm
not going to fail," she said. "I feel sure Aat I shall not.
Mr. Greaves . . ."

"Greaves told you what he did to please you, and to
please Hulbert. Greaves isn't a fool, he knows as well
as I do that you're not cut out for the stage. You have
to be bom to it, and you're not. You'll break your heart
if you fail, and all Hulbert's money can't buy success for
you," he added, hoarsely.

Her eyes flashed. "Delia has been talking to you. She
said just the same thing to me the other day. You're

274 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

both jealous I That's what it is. I suppose this is a con-
spiracy between you ?"

"You know quite well that I detest your cousin. It's
not at all likely that I should discuss you with her."

She turned away. "You come here and upset me just
when I ought to be left alone. If I do fail to-night it
will be your fault. I was feeling quite happy and con-
fident until you came. Mr. Greaves will be furious if
he knows you have been here."

"I don't care a curse for Greaves, or any of his
crowd. It's my duty to prevent you ruining your life if
lean."

"You've said that before ; I'm tired of hearing it." Her
voice shook now. She began to cry.

The maidi who had evidently not been much further
than the other side of the door, came in unceremoni-
ously. She looked at Barry with angry eyes. She had
had strict instructions from Mr. Greaves that her mis-
tress was not to be worried*, she said. It was too bad for
him, and would he please go away at once.

Barry looked at his wife with desperate eyes. It was
useless, he knew. Nothing he could say or do would
make any difference to her decision. He had got to
stand helplessly by and let her go her own way.

"I didn't mean to upset you," he said hoarsely. "I —
I suppose I was a fool to come. I meant it for the
best." He waited a moment, looking at her appealingly,
but she might not have heard him for all the notice she
took, and after a moment he went away.

"You should have refused to see him," Hazel's maid
scolded her. "I did my best to keep him out ; but there."
She shrugged her shoulders. "He's so big — ^what could
we do?" She fussed round Hazel with smelling salts.
She was really very anxious about her.

Hulbert had threatened her with all manner of pen-
alties if she allowed Hazel to be upset or excited. She
was relieved when Hazel allowed herself to be persuaded

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 275

to lie down. After all, it was quite early. There were
hours before she need dress.

But Hazel only consented to go to her room so that she
could be alone. Barry's unexpected visit had opened
a new train of thought. Supposing he were right, and
she did not succeed?

She shut her eyes and tried to sleep, but it was im-
possible. The night had all at once become a terror to
her. The hours seemed to race; it was no time at all
before the maid came to rouse her again.

She busied herself about the room, laying out Hazel's
new frock, a white, filmy thing of tulle, very youthful
looking, with a short, full skirt, and shoulder straps made
of narrow silver bands.

Hazel looked away from it. Supposing she were a
failure! Supposing, before a crowded house of critical
eyes, she failed and broke down! It made her hot to
her finger-tips to think of it. Barry would be there, too;
somewhere in the audience he would be watching her,
and wondering how soon she would fail.

The thought stung her to desperation. She would not
fail — she would go on and forget ever3rthing except that
she meant to succeed. She would show Barry that she
was not so weak and inexperienced as he thought.

All the while she was being dressed she talked away to
try and disguise her nervousness. She was very fussy
about her hair, and made the girl re-dress it three times.
She was ready an hour before Hulbert came to fetch her,
pacing up and down the little sitting-room.

A long glass at one end reflected her dainty figure.
She stopped once or twice and looked at herself with
critical eyes. A pretty enough picture she made, she
knew, and yet somehow she did not look like herself in
the very short frock and high-heeled shoes, with the
elaborately dressed hair and rouged cheeks.

Barry had said she was changed; she knew that she
was. There was nothing left of the girl who had first

276 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

loved him. She seemed to have been pushed out of sight
and forgotten.

Her heart began to race when she heard Hulbert's
voice in the hall. Once she had left the flat with him
there would be no looking back ; she would have to go
on — on to whatever awaited her.

If only Barry had been coming. The thought was in
her mind before she realised it, and she tried in vain to
stifle it. If Barry had been there instead of this man
she knew she would not have minded half so much. She
tried to smile when Hulbert asked her how she felt. She
said that she felt quite all right.

"You look like a fairy," he said. His eyes scanned
her little figure admiringly. "After to-night, I suppose,
you will be looking for higher game than me," he said,
jealously.

She turned away from him. "I don't know what you
mean. I may fail altogether."

He laughed. "You ! Fail ! It's not remotely possible."

His confidence cheered her; she felt happier as they
drove away.

Hulbert was considerate for once in his life and let
her alone; it was only when the car stopped that for a
moment he touched her hand and gripped it hard.

"Now then, little girl — for all you're worth !"

Hazel nodded ; she could not speak. She would have
given anything in the world to have turned and run
away, but she followed him into the rather dismal door-
way and along a stone passage which seemed full of men
who stood about talking and doing nothing in particular.

Hulbert introduced her to one or two of them. She
supposed afterwards that she spoke to them and an-
swered their questions, but the whole evening was a
blank to her. She felt as if she moved and spoke in her
sleep.

Then they went in a small, brilliantly-lit room that
seemed crowded with odds and ends, and hung from floor
to ceiling with photographs.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 277

Greaves was there, and some other people who stared
at her a great deal, but she never could remember who
they were or what were their names.

There was one man with a red nose and gfreat, baggy
trousers. When presently he moved on to do his turn
he was greeted with roars from the house. Hazel won-
dered in a panic what sort of a reception they would
give to anyone as scared as she was ; she looked appeal-
ingly at Greaves.

His eyes met hers, and he smiled faintly. He crossed
over to where she sat.

"Not frightened ?" he asked. She shook her head, she
felt as if she must burst out crying. He patted her
shoulder.

"There's nothing to be afraid of, come and stand in
the wings — ^you'll see how easy it is."

She followed closely behind him, the bustle and noise
behind the stage bewildered her, there seemed so many
people giving orders and moving about all at once. The
huge pieces of scenery looked as if they must come
crashing down every time they were touched, the white
limelight blinded hen

The red-nosed comedian was doing a ragtime dance
and singing a chorus about his mother-in-law. The audi-
ence seemed to find it intensely funny, judging by the
way they screamed with laughter.

It was a nightmare to Hazel, she never knew how
long she stood there, as people passed and repassed her
on their way to the stage. There were a troupe of per-
forming dogs and tight-rope dancers, they seemed an
endless stream.

Presently Greaves touched her arm.

"After this turn."

She looked up, not understanding.

"You go on after this," he said. He smiled encour-
agingly. "Now there's nothing to be nervous about.
You're going to be a great success." But he had never
felt more sure in his life that she would be a hopeless

278 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

failure. He felt bitterly ashamed of himself as he looked
at her white face and twitching lips, she would fail, she
must fail. He was as sure of it as he had ever been of
anything in his successful career.

The curtain rang down, and there was a momentary
silence. Hazel moved a step forward — ^someone took her
cloak from her — ^the curtain swung up again. The band
started the opening bars of the sentimental coon song
which she had practised and rehearsed till it haunted
her dreams.

A powdered gentleman in a heavily braided coat moved
across the stage pompously and stuck a placard at the
side to the effect that this was an extra turn. As he did
so a big young man in the stalls rose hurriedly as if to
leave the theatre, then stopped and sat down again. The
band repeated the first bars of the song, and the next
moment Hazel stood alone on the big stage.

Barry gave one look at her and quickly away again.
He felt as if rough fingers were tearing at his heart.
She looked such a child in her short, white frock. He
leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his face
hidden in his hands. For a moment he was blind and
deaf to everything.

Hazel was singing now. Her small, pretty voice, filled
the big hall with the sweet clearness of a bird's — z little
tremulous at first, but gaining in power and confidence
as she sang.

The long finger of limelight followed her dainty figure
as she moved up and down the wide stage.

Greaves, from the wings, watched her with incredu-
lous eyes. She met his gaze once as she turned, and
smiled . . . smiled ! He looked round for Hulbert.
He gripped his arm with excited fingers.

"She's getting there, man! She's going to be a suc-
cess! I never was so amazed."

Hulbert did not answer. He was very red in the
face and his eyes never left Hazel.

The little song was ended now, and she began to dance.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 279

There was nothing wonderful in her dancing, but it was
pretty and graceful. She looked like a fairy, as Htilbert
had told her — & smiling little fairy who was hugely en-
joying herself, and who confidently expected the audi-
ence to do the same.

"There was absolutely nothing in what she did,"
Delia said afterwards, angrily. "Whatever on earth the
people saw in her, I don't know." But that they saw
something was without a doubt, for when at last the cur-
tain swung down a roar of applause broke out through
the house.

Barry raised his white face. Applause! They were
actually applauding her! Some youths just behind him
were shouting a vociferous "Encore !"

He looked blindly towards the stage. The big cur-
tains were slowly swinging apart, and for a moment
Hazel stood between them, a little nervous, a little uncer-
tain what to do. But Barry did not notice that; there
was only one thought in his mind^ — a desolating thought
— that she had been a success, after all, that she had not
failed, and that after to-night she wotdd be further re-
moved from him than ever.

CHAPTER XXXVI

AS soon as Hazel's turn was over, Barry got up and
left the theatre. He was sick at heart; he could
just imagine what was going on behind the scenes,
how excited Hazel would be, and what a fuss they would
be making of her.

What was Greaves thinking? he wondered — Greaves
who had been so sure she would fail, or was that only
what he had' saidf Perhaps he had never really thought
so at all; perhaps even now he was metaphorically
thumping himself on the back and thinking how infallible
he was.

As he passed along the foyer he ran into Greaves
himself; the elder man caught him by the arm.

"I was looking for you; they told me you were in
front. Come along round and congfratulate your wife.
We're going to have a little supper to celebrate the oc-
casion. I must admit that I never was so surprised in
my life. It only shows that none of us are infallible."

He dug Barry in the ribs playfully. "I'm going to
give her a contract right away. Hulbert's crowing over
me properly, I can tell you. Come along, man."

But Barry did not move ; he was scowling fiercely, and
his face wore its most obstinate look.

'Thanks, but I don't care about it. I'm glad she's
been a success." He stopped, and for a moment their
eyes met, then Barry broke out again vehemently.

"I'm not glad. I never was so damned sick about any-
thing in my life, and you can tell her so if you like.
Good-night."

He was gone before Greaves could stop him.

Greaves^ turned i away with a little shru^j;; he supposed

280

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 281

Barry thought he had let him down. He had really
meant to try and help them both by putting Hazel on
at the Pantheon, It was quite true tihat he had been
sure that she was doomed to failure, and he knew that a
failure at the Pantheon would have been utter and entire.

He would have been pleased to see Hazel and Barry
reconciled; he had a sneaking regard for them both; but
to-night things had changed; Hazel had changed, too.
He no longer considered her as a pretty little girl of
whom he was rather fond, but as a great money-making
speculation.

One could never be sure what the public would take
to its erratic heart, he told himself as he turned to go
back behind the stage again. However, if they wanted
the very simple talents which was all Hazel haa to offer
them, he was quite willing to see that they got them. In
his mind he had already decided what form of contract
he would offer to her.

Hazel was ready to leave when he rejoined her. Hul-
bert was there in devoted attendance; he looked at
Greaves with triumph.

His whole attitude seemed to be shouting: "What did
I tell you ! What did I say ? She's a success — as I knew
she would be."

Hazel was very flushed, and her eyes blazed with ex-
citement. She wondered what Barry thought now, and
Delia!

"I've just been talking to that husband of yours,"
Greaves said as they went out to Hulbert's waiting car.
"Oh, yes, he was there in the stalls — ^you didn't see him ?
— ^no, you wouldn't." He looked down at her indul-
gently. "He was about the only soul in the house who
didn't approve of you, my dear," he added, deliberately.

She raised her eyes to his face.

"Didn't approve of me?" There was no quiver of
disappointment or anger in her voice. "Did he tell you
so ?" she asked.

282 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

Greaves nodded.

"Yes, he did; he told me that he was never so sick
about an3^hing in all his life."

Hazel was very quiet during supper; she hardly ate
anything. Greaves and Hulbert were both noisy and
excited. They drank an unnecessary lot of champagne ;
they toasted her many times; they spoke a great deal
about the contract she was to have.

Hazel listened silently, and Greaves put her silence
down to the weariness of reaction.

"We've tired her to death," he said boisterously. "Too
much excitement for one night isn't good for little girls.
Never mind, I'll see you to-morrow, my dear. And Siere
are the papers to look out for, you know. I shall be in-
terested to hear what they say about my new prot^e."

"They can't say much," Hazel said, smiling. "I don't
suppose they'll even notice me."

Greaves frowned.

"They wouldn't dare leave you out," he said. "I'm a
power to reckon with in Fleet Street, I assure you."

She did not understand; now the first excitement was
wearing off she realised how tired she was. There was a
curious home-sick kind of feeling in her heart. These
men, kind and pleased as they both were, were not her
own people. She would have given anything just then
for her mother or even grim Joe Daniels or — or Barry !
Someone of her own to look at her with proud eyes of
approval, to tell her how proud they were.

She was glad when it was time to go home. Her
eyes were beginning to look drowsy; she did not take
much notice when Greaves bade her "Good-night."

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.

"Another little swan for my long list," he said. "May
she have a long life and a successful one."

Hazel went out to the car with Hulbert. She was des-
perately tired; she leaned back in the comer and drew
her cloak round her, closing her eyes.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 283

The smooth gliding motion of the car was very sooth-
ing.

"Tired?" he asked presently. "There was a jerky
note in his voice, but Hazel did not notice it.

"Yes, I am, very tired. It's been a wonderful night,
hasn't it?" She tried to rouse herself; she knew how
much she owed to this man. It seemed ungrateful to
sit there and say nothing; she sat up.

"I don't know how to thank you," she said earnestly.
"You've done so much for me; I'm afraid I can't ever
thank you — ^properly."

He did not answer for a moment, then all at once he
caught her in his arms.

"You can ! You can thank me by loving me ! You say
it's been a wonderful night. But you are the most won-
derful of all. I've been so patient, Hazel, but you must
have known. I love you — I've loved you ever since we
first met. Come away with me. Your marriage is no
marriage at all. Wicklow doesn't want you • • •
Hazel . . ."

He was kissing her passionately, holding her so that
she could not escape.

She tried to struggle against him, but she was like a
child in his arms; she was cold with fear and loathing;
she struck at his face with impotent hands, trying to
beat him off.

"You brute . . . you brute! If you only knew
how I hate you !" she sobbed in terror. He only laughed,

"I'd rather have your hate than the love of any other
woman," he said recklessly. "If this is just a little game
to make more sure of me, go on playing it by all manner
of means ! I've been patient — I can be patient a little
longer. You've cost me a pretty penny, but it's been worth
it all the while. I never thought I could even care for
a woman as much as I do for you. There !" He kissed
her lips almost brutally, and let her go. He thought he

284 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

had conquered her; she fell away from him against the
side of the car, gasping.

Hulbert laughed. He liked a woman with spirit, he
told himself complacently; but he had never thought
little Hazel had got it in her to be such a spitfire.

The car slowed down at a cross road; it was going,
little faster than walking pace. Hazel saw her oppor-
tunity; she made a desperate clutch at the handle, and
the next moment had swung the door back.

"Hazel, for God's sake !" Hulbert saw what she was
going to do too late; he made a grab at her to stop her,
but his fingers only closed on her silk coat. She had not
fastened it round her throat, and she let it go now easily.
The next moment she was running like a mad woman
down the street through the darkness.

She did not know in the least where she was; it had
been raining, and the streets were wet and muddy. Her
white shoes were ruined before she had gone half-a-dozen
steps, her hair loosened and flying about her face, but she
yan on — on, never stopping till she came to a taxicab
at a standstill outside a house.

The cabby had just been paid ; she could see him lean-
ing forward counting the money in the light of the lamp ;
she went up to him, she could hardly speak.

"Are you disengaged ?"

He looked at her dubiously ; she was so white and ter-
rified. "I'll pay you — ^pay you well," she said, hoarsely.
He shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh, all right— where to?"

She tore open the door of the cab — she only stopped
for a moment to give him Barry Wicklow's address. It
was her one chance for safety, she knew. If she went
back to the flat Hulbert would follow her. If not to-
night, then certainly to-morrow, or the next day.

There was only one man who could protect her from
this man's loathesome attentions — ^her husband! She
would go to Barry.

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 285

She leaned back in the cab, shaking and breathless;
all her weariness had vanished; she had never felt more
wide awake in her life.

Hulbert would never follow her to her husband's
rooms ; she knew that it was the last i^ace in which he
would think of looking for her. She diought of him as
some beast of prey; even now he might be following
through the darkness — she shuddered from head to foot.

It seemed an eternity till the cab stopped, for a moment
she was afraid to get out. The driver came to the doon

"Here you are, lady."

She got out then, she felt so weak she could hardly
stand; she knew that the man was looking at her curi-
ously — at her torn frock and muddy shoes.

She realised that she had no money. She turned to
him in desperation.

"Wait a moment ; I shall have to ask for your fare."

He looked at her suspiciously as she went up to the
doorway; she spoke to the porter tremblingly.

"Do you know if Mr. Wicklow is in?"

She could have broken down and sobbed with relief
when he answered that Mr. Wicklow had come in not
half-an-hour ago.

"Well — ^will you please pay for my cab ; Mr. Wicklow
will see you presently." She paused, meeting the man's
dubious eyes steadily.

"I am his wife," she said proudly.

She avoided the lift; she walked up the stairs to
Barry's door. She was only conscious of a great long-
ing to be with him; even if he did not love her he would
take care of her, she knew, when he saw how frightened
she was.

She rang the bell and waited ; it seemed a long time be-
fore anyone came. Then she heard a step in the nar-
row hall — 3L man's step — ^and after a moment Barry
himself opened the door.

He still wore evening dress; he held a lifted cigar

286 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

in his hand There was a breathless silence. Hazd
tried to speak, but no words would come. She just
put out her hands and Barry caught them in his own,
"My God, Hazel, what has happen^?"

He drew her in and shut the door; he half-carried
her across the hall to the sitting-room and put her down
in a big chair by the fire. Her hands were burning hot,
but she shivered as if she were frozen.

He fetched brandy and made her drink some ; he knelt
down on the rug and gently took off the muddy sodden
little shoes.

He asked no more questions ; when he saw that the
colour was stealing faintly back to her cheeks he got
up and moved away.

He was very white, and his lips were set in a hard
line of pain.

Presently —

"Better?" he asked cheerfully.

She nodded, she tried to smile; she put up her hands
and tried to fasten back the loose waves of hair that
were falling untidily about her face. Barry watched her
clumsy efforts silently.

After a moment he said:

"There's a glass in my room, if you don't mind going
there ; my brushes are on the dressing-table."

She shook her head.

"I can manage ." But she could not, and the soft

waves of hair tumbled untidily about her face again.

She pushed them back desperately; she looked up at
him.

"I expect you wonder why I've come here, so late,
like this. I wouldn't have done, only" — she made a help-
less gesture— "I had nowhere else to go."

"There is your flat." Barry spoke hoarsely; his hands
were rammed deep into his pockets, his face was pain-
fully strained. Her eyes fell.

"I was afraid to go there. Oh, don't look at me like

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICRLOW 28?

that, Barry !" She dropped her face in her hands with
a sob.

Barry took a stride forward; he raised her chin
roughly in his hand, forcing her to look at him.

For a moment his eyes scanned her face, with its quiv-
ering lips and frightened eyes.

"Was it — Hulbert?" he asked, uncertainly.

But there was no need for her to answer.

He stood for a moment as if he did not know what
to do ; then he let her go, and went over to the door.

Hazel cried out.

"Where are you going — ^what are you going to do ?"

She dragged herself up from the big chair, and, fol-
lowing, clung to his arm.

"Barry, Barry, what are you going to do ?"

He looked down at her, and his grey eyes were al-
most black in their fury,

"I'm going to kill that swine Y' he said, hoarsely.

She broke out in terror.

"Don't leave me here alone — oh, don't! You can see
him another time — to-morrow. If I cared znyihing for
him I shouldn't be here now — I shouldn't have come to
you. You must know that! I hate him, Barry. You
must — ^you must believe me !"

He held her at arm's length.

"And me, too, you hate me, too," he said hoarsely.

She looked up at him, the tears were nmning ddwn
her face, her hair tumbling about her shoulders, and
in that moment she looked to him like the little girl whom
he had first known and loved — ^the little girl who had
walked with him through the woods down at Bedmund,
and something seemed to snap round his heart and brain,
a band of relentless iron that had held him bound for
so long; his white face quivered.

"Why have you come here? You told me long ago
that you hated me ?" he said again.

His hands tightened their grip of her.

288 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

*'Have you come here just because you are frightened
— ^just because you have nowhere else to go? Or be-
cause you want me — ^because you want to stay with
me?" he asked again, hoarsely.

It seemed an eternity till she answered, and then the
words were so low that he could hardly catch them.

"Because I want to stay with you/' she said in a
whisper.

CHAPTER XXXVII

BUT even now Barry did not believe her.
"You've soon changed your mind," he said with
rough suspicion, and yet she did not look as if she
had come there to fool him, in her soiled, torn frock, and
the tears wet on her face.

Her little stockinged feet were half buried in the
thick rug that stretched almost the length of the room,
and she was sobbing quietly. She had lost her hand-
kerchief, and she brushed the tears away childlishly with
the back of her hands.

Barry spoke again —

"It's absurd to make out that you've suddenly dis-
covered you . • . you want to come back to me.
You've made a hit — I never thought you would, but
there's no doubt you have ; Greaves will be offering you
a contract to stay on with him, if he hasn't done so al,-
ready • . ."

"He — ^he has 1" said Hazel on the top of a sob.

Barry laughed mirthlessly.

"Well, I congfratulate you, but you can't have it all
your own way you know, and I'm not going to be pointed
at as your husband. I always swore I would never marry
a woman who was on the stage — I hate the whole beastly
business."

"You didn't hate Topsy St. Helier."

Barry consigned Topsy to a warmer climate .

"I never thought of marr)dng her; I should sooner
have thought of msLrrying my grandmother" — ^his eyes
softened as he looked at her; he dragged a handkerchief
from his pocket and went over to where she stood; he put
his arms round her shoulders, and dried her eyes aa if
she had been a child.

289

290 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

"Don't cry," he said gently. "I'm not going to bully
you any more. You're frightened and upset. You can
stay here to-night, and I'll clear out. I'll settle with
Hulbert to-morrow . • ." he looked at his watch.

"Do you know how late it is ? You must be worn out !
I'll be getting along."

She let him go without a word. She stood with her
hands hanging limply against her white frock, her fin-
gers clasping the handkerchief he had given her, listen-
ing to his steps in the hall.

She heard him take his big coat down from the rack,
and heard him make a great business of brushing it; it
seemed a long time till he came back.

"Well — ^good-night," he said, not looking at her. "I
hope you'll be comfortable — ^there's nothing to worry
about. Hulbert shall never bother you again, I promise
you." He paused. "Good-night," he said again gently.

She looked up then, her cheeks were scarlet.

"Good-night — " she said in a hard voice. "And I hope
you'll try to forget that I ever came here; that I ever
. • . . offered myself to you, and you wouldn't
. . . . Oh, Barry r

Barry dropped his coat to the floor, shut the door with
a bang; he came back and took her by the shoulders,
holding her fast.

"Are you trying to make a fool of me — ^again?" he
asked savagely. "I haven't forgotten the last time yet
— ^when you let me drive you home — when you let me
kiss you, and then . . ."

"Yes, and then — " she caught him up shrilly. "What
happened then? You promised to come in the morning,
and^you never came; and I waited and waited, and you
never came . . . never wrote . . •"

Barry let her go, and she sank down trembling into
the big chair behind her.

"And why didn't I?" he demanded fiercely. "Be-
cause that damned cousin of yours said it was only the

MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW 291

money you wanted me for — Norman's money . . •, she
said . . ."

He stooped suddenly and swept her up in his arms as
if she had been a child ; he was trembling in every limb.

"You're not playing with me, are you? — Hazel! look
at me . . . tell me it's true — ^tell me that you came
here to-night because you want to come back to me
as my wife . . . Don't let there be any more mis-
understandings . . . we've wasted time enough
. . . . Hazel — do you ... do you love me?"

Hazel lifted her arms and clasped them round his
neck; she laid her head on his breast with a little sob
of infinite content.

"Haven't I been trying to say it, ever since I came

in?" she asked.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Greaves declared it was the greatest disappointment he
had ever had in his life, when the following morning
Barry Wicklow called upon him, and in the most lordly
manner, declined the offered contract on behalf of his
wife.

"She'd have made a name for herself, that girl," he
said mournfully, even as he shook hands widi Barry
and called him a lucky dog.

"But you tell her — " he added whimsically, "that if
ever she gets tired of you, to come along here, and we'll
get the thing t3rped out again . . ."

Barry went back to his rooms and told Hazel.

"It's like his damned impudence," he growled.

Hazel laughed.

"He would never have said it, only he knows it will
never happen," she said happily.

Barry caught her round tiie waist.

'Never?" he asked jealously.

'Never," said Hazel softly.

Barry kissed her passionately.

'And now, when I've finished with that swine Hulbcrt/'

292 MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW

he said, 'I'm going to take you away on a honey-
moon "

You have finished with him," she interrupted eagerly.
You can afford to let him go, Barry. After all, if he
hadn't kissed me last night . . ." her eyes fell. ''Well,
I shouldn't have come here, should I ?*

"And if you hadn't come here — " said Barry, "I
should have been the most miserable devil on earth."

"But as it is?" she challenged him.

"As it is, my beloved — *' he answered, "people will
soon be saying that the only thing worth mentioning in
the whole of Barry Widdow's chequered career, was his
marriage r

THB END.

PROPBRT^

or THE
NIW YMIK

LlMtA«lt