Mistress of the House by Eleanor Farnes Page B

going to be married?”
    “Some day, I hope.”
    “Have you picked out the man?”
    “No. I haven’t got as far as that.”
    “Footloose and fancy free?”
    “Yes. Mother thinks it high time I looked about me. Her words. She was married and had me when she was my age, and she thinks I may get left on the shelf.”
    “How old are you?”
    “Twenty-five.”
    “I don’t think she need worry about the shelf.”
    Laurie laughed.
    “Come along,” he said. “You’ve been very noble and self-sacrificing; but if it is any consolation to you, I’ve enjoyed it very much. And now I’ll take you along to the dance.”
    She rose, and went to the fire. “I’ll get warm first,” she said, warming her cold fingers at the blaze. Max held her jacket for her and she slipped into it. He wanted to fold her and her jacket and all her desirable smallness into his arms, but he stood aside for her to precede him out of the room. He blew out the lamp, and joined her in the passage. It was quite dark.
    “I’m lost,” said Laurie, not knowing which way to go.
    He held out a hand and touched fur. He put his arm under hers and led her along the dark passage and into the kitchen where there was still a glow from the fire. When he would have let her go, he felt a slight pressure from her arm, holding his hand where it was. He led her across the kitchen, out into the cold night air, and across to where the car waited. Without talking, they drove down to the village, and went into the dance hall.
    Laurie was conscious of a crowded place, and of the eyes of most of the occupants being suddenly focused on herself. It did not worry her at all. She waited for Max, and when he joined her, she smiled up at him, waiting for him to lead her. He soon found the corner where his mother was sitting with Diana and Jessica and several friends, and he went across the room with Laurie at his side. If it was an embarrassment to him to cross that crowded room with most eyes on the two of them, he did not show it.
    The small circle of family and friends watched them coming. Mrs. Lorney thought how pretty Miss Giles was looking, and did not think of Max this time. Jessica, who had been worrying all the evening about them, wondering why they did not arrive, hated the girl in her glowing dress and her soft fur, with her hair falling in soft profusion, quite unlike its everyday tidiness.
    Diana Humphries was looking at Max. ‘Poor Max. Poor darling Max,’ was the gist of her thought, as she saw his pronounced limp. She remembered other village dances, when they had all (the Lorneys, her brother Neville and herself, and other young people of the neighbourhood) descended on the village hall for these hops, in great glee. Max was always the idol of the women. He was tall and handsome, and he danced like a professional. Diana, fairly tall herself, had loved dancing with him. And it wasn’t only dancing, she thought. He had played tennis at White Lodge with a dash and power which was nice to watch. He could still ride and swim, but his tennis and dancing days were over—poor darling Max.
    “Hallo, Diana,” he said, taking her hand; “it’s good to see you. You haven’t met Miss Giles yet, have you?”
    “No. I tried to get back this morning in time to see you,” said Diana, smiling up at Laurie. “I was very curious, as a matter of fact, because Mother and Dad look upon you as a marvel. But I was kept by some friends.”
    Laurie looked at Diana Humphries and Diana looked at Laurie. The young man sitting next to Diana gave Laurie his seat, and she sat down talking to her. She saw that Diana was lovely in a very slender, very fair, way. Chiselled and serene and somehow, spare. Max had said “coolly lovely”, and it was true. One saw at a glance that there was no nonsense about Diana. Her glance was direct and her speech was direct. Diana, looking at Laurie, saw that here was prettiness allied to intelligence and a certain poise. She wondered if Max had