LOVE IN FETTERS

Auckland Star, Volume LIX, Issue 231, 29 September 1928, Page 14 (Supplement)

LOVE IN FETTERS

By PATRICIA LEIGH

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. REX CUNNINGHAM, a wealthy and handsome young man, has married in Canada a lovely girl, MOLLY CURTIS, who is gifted with an unusually beautiful voice. For a brief period they are happy, but soon they part, on trie understanding that, if either wishes to remarry, he (or she) shall obtain a divorce. Rex returns to London, where he falls in love with UNA COWDRAY, a young, sensitive, impressionable girl, to whom he becomes engaged, without telling her that he is a married man. Rex and Una, with their friends, LAWRENCE HABERLIX, a wide-awake young American journalist, and MARJORIE HARTLEY, who is herself In love with Rex, are receiving congratulations upon the engagement in the lounge of the World Peace Federation Club, when Rex looks up and finds himself staring ' into the eyes of Molly, his wife: She does not speak to him, but later she calls at his rooms. When she goes, having promised not to divulge that she is Rex's wife, Haberlin visits Rex and announces that he knows of the marriage, urging Rex to tell Una frankly about it. Rex temporises, and meets Una the next evening at the house of MRS. BLANEY, a vivacious American woman. Next day, Molly, who knows of Rex's engagement and has agreed to a divorce, meets Marjorie and Una, and is persuaded to lunch with them—and Rex. For a week Rex remembers that severe ordeal, and is-only deterred from making to his fiancee a clean breast of his marriage because she has repeatedly told him that she does not believe in divorce. Meanwhile Marjorie has vague suspicions, and tries to " draw" Haberlin about Rex's sojourn in Canada. She is unsuccessful, but on the night when Molly, now a great public singer, takes London by storm, she makes a wild guess, and catches Haberlin off his guard. CHAPTER XI. Una, looking back on the events of the past month, decided that a tiny cloud had appeared on her horizon on the night of the concert. Since then, the entire sky had become overcast, or so it seemed to her. Not that she could take hold of anything tangible—it -was ridiculous to dwell on that absurd episode at the Beethoven Hall, when Rex suddenly kissed Molly's hand, carried away by the fleeting emotion of the moment.

She was sitting in the primrose and blue lounge of the Anglo-American section waiting for Rex, while one of the amiable male bores who haunted the rooms prattled in her inattentive ear.

" You haven't been looking very well lately, Miss Cowdray," he said. " Working too. hard, perhaps, but I am afraid we shall soon be losing you, you know. Is your wedding day fixed yet ? "

Una experienced all the annoyance that people usually feel when they are told they don't look well, knowing it to mean that she was not looking as pretty as usual, and added to that came the knowledge that people were expecting a date to be lixed for the wedding. They all knew that there was no reason for a long engagement, and were probably gossiping already.

"Here comes Mr. Cunningham," bleated the nonentity at her side. "I am sure you won't want me any more now. He's ten minutes late. Very ungallant of him, I call it."

Una watched the fatuous little man hop across the room like a sparrow seeking crumbs, until, catching sight of another acquaintance to bore, he hurried in that direction with a bright smile.

Una greeted Rex rather impatiently. It was the day when she took evening duty until eight o'clock, and she was tired and hungry. "I thought you were never coming! " she exclaimed pettishly. "Why? I'm not late, ami!" " That clock over there says a quarter past eight, doesn't it ? "

She accepted his apologies coldly, still more irritated because he had not even noticed that he had kept her waiting. " If you are tired, perhaps we might as well dine here, in the Grill Room," be suggested.

"If you knew how I longed to get away from this place you would think of something better. Don't I have to work here seven hours a day, and have my meals here practically all the time?"

He looked at her in some surprise. As a rule she was so very even-tempered. "Of course we will go just where you like," he replied gently. "I expect it's the sudden heat that's upset you." "Suppose we have a quick meal at that new C-zecho-Slovakian restaurant in Swallow Street, and then go straight back to my flat afterwards?"

Cunningham agreed, but, it seemed to her, without enthusiasm. Lately she fancied that he almost tried to avoid being alone with her; they passed their time together at dances, dinners, theatre parties, always in public, and her pride would not let her make it evident that she preferred more domesticity. Once they were married, she told herself, everything would be different. Being engaged was as a rule rather a trying time for everyone.

They found the Tokay Restaurant unexpectedly crowded, and were both thankful to escape into the fresh, air again. At Cunningham's suggestion they walked the comparatively short distance to Una's flat, where they discovered Mrs. Blaney dismissing a weary secretary for the night. She asked them to excuse her while she listened to a "speech on disarmament, and Rex and Una at last found themselves quite alone.

When Una had Rex entirely to herself he always had a soothing effect upon her, and gradually, as she lay peacefully in his arms, her fears dissolved, and the old dreamy content came back to her.

"I simply love a quiet evening with nothing special to do," she confided. "I often long to get away from it all."

Rex looked at her in astonishment. He was always getting fresh and unexpected sidelights on her character. It was beginning to occur to him that he really did not know much of the real Una in spite of their years of superficial friendship.

"I always think of you as the London butterfly type," he said, "perpetually fitting from place to place, and up half the night."

"You misjudge me altogether. I am really thoroughly domesticated; I long f<Jr a home of my own to look after." "You mean you would like to do a lot of entertaining?" Una shook her head decisively. "Just at present I feel as though I want to get right away from everything. But I expect that would not last, and anyway, we will have to live in town, won't we?" j

. "I ™ afraid I am chained to the city, but at any rate we could put in a good long holiday first, make our honeymoon last two or three months—how would that suit you?" Cunningham had come to the conclusion that there wa ß nothing to be done but to go through with his engagement * n^" la / ry Un * at the earliest possible mpment, as soon as ever he was legally

free to do so. He had forced Molly to sec him alone .the day after the concert, but she would have nothing to do with him, and merely urged him to do his best to make Una happy. If be could not have the woman he now wanted, he might as "well marry the girl who loved him.

"What are your ideas about a honeymoon?" he asked curiously. "The Riviera, South Africa, Madeira, Japan? I might possibly manage three months awav."

"How perfectly splendid! Let's get an atlas and plan a few trips." She jumped up and fetched the "Times" Atlas.

"But we can't plan anything until we have tixed a date for the wedding," she pointed out. "It is no good going to hot places in the summer."

Rex frowned slightly. Suppose she suggested a summer wedding, what excuse could he give for putting off the wedding? He could not possibly have his legal freedom under less than eight months.

Una was studying map 3 with keen interest.

"Must we have a definite plan for the wliole of the time?" she asked. "What about starting off with Norway, and then drifting down through Europe?" 'Winter sports? Norway would be more interesting than Switzerland, but wliv not Austria?"

"Winter sports!" cried Una in amazement. "Whatever are you thinking of? Why, this is only the beginning of May. Surely "

She broke off suddenly. Tt occurred to her for the first time that it was strange of Rex to have said nothing about their wedding day; she had assumed that they would be married almost at once.

"Mrs. Blanev was asking yesterday about the wedding invitations," she said rather slowly. "She thinks it is time they were being printed."

"Time has gone so quickly since we became engaged that I hardly notice the weeks slip by. But, of course, we ought to make plans now," he replied, wondering how he could possibly have failed to see this predicament. am so glad we can have a summer wedding, and when the winter comes we shall be settling down in our own home." "I hope so. I very much hope so," replied Rex. "Ifl a few days time I shall know for certain, but as we want to have a really long and thoroughly comfortable honeymoon there are a few financial details to see to first." He smiled at her as he spoke, adding that of course she could not be expected to understand these sordid matters. "Then don't let us bother about a lonp honeymoon," she replied quickly. "I don't mind a bit, and I know a perfectlysplendid spot in Cornwall. W r e could easily run down there in the ear and have the loveliest time, bathing, boating, tennis, everything." "I feel that we ought to get right away, somewhere abroad, and make a good long trip. After all, we »an only have one honeymoon." He broke off, suddenly remembering a Canadian forest in early autumn, a tent under tho stars, and the glow of a camp fire. But Una had risen to her feet and was standing over him. "WTiat do you mean?" she cried. "Why do you not want to be married at once? I took it all for granted, everybody is expecting the wedding to be on my birthday." "Your birthday?" 'Yes, on June 30. I shall be twentytwo then, and it seemed to me the ideal date." But, darling, if I find it is not possible "

"Why shouldn't it be? Tt ean't be a question of money. I don't believe vou want to marry me, you don't love "me after all." She broke off, crossed to the window and stood lookinj? out into the blackness of the night, while she groped desperately for a handkerchief. Cunningham sprang up and look her tendcrlv in his arms. "Darling, you are all upset to-nieht; you are not yourself. You don't know what you are saying." Why can t T be married on my birthda v! You don't love me." Res soothed her as best he could, but sue would not be comforted. "lou don t love me, or else you would not want to put off the wedding," she kent repeating. In the end he managed to pacify her. and promised to talk over things with | Sir Seamore Massey, but she was still sobbinff when he eventually left her. He felt like a criminal. CHAPTER XII. "WTiat is the mater with Una these days?" asked Haberlin, curiously, "the is looking like a ghost." Yes, she has been rather oiT colour lately, beginning to lose her looks, don't you think?" replied Marjorie with satisfaction.

They were, at her suggestion, spending an afternoon up the river in a canoe belonging to a friend of hers. It was one of the first really hot days of the year, and they were both revelling in the strong sunshine as they lazed there, with the canoe tied on to a tree stump. "Do you think that she is really happy?" asked Haberlin. whose thoughts were constantly with Una.

"At present she is worrying about the v edding date, but, once she is married, s.ie'll settle down all right and be happy ever after, like the princesses in the fairv tales."

"I wish I could reallv believe that," answered Haberlin thoughtfully. He does not want to belive it, he still wants to marry Una himself thought Marjorie angrily. If anything should happen to prevent her marriage, he would be glad, and try again. "Una is only worrying a bit because she wanted to be married on her birthday, on June 30," she told him decisively, "and of course, you and I know well enough why that is impossible."

"I still can't help feeling that it is all wrong, that Una ought to know the truth. W 7 hv don't vou tell her vourself?"

"We have discussed tJiat before. She must be told by Rex himself or by nobody."

Haberlin shrugged his shoulders and changed the subject. He saw that it was no use saying anything more about it; he would get no help from Marjorie.

He offered lier another cigarette and watched her with lazy curiosity as she lolled back against some cushion.". It was one of her good days, when she was looking her very best. It occurred to him for'the first time what an out-of-door type she really was, with her fine physique; so far he had only known her against a London background.

"1 do believe you are wasted up in the library of the W.P.E.," he told her. She opened up a many-coloured Japanese parasol and settled herself more luxuriously in her end of the canoe before she replied. She was conscious of the fact that she must be very pleasing to the eyes in her cerise frock with a vivid green silk sweater dung carelessly round her shoulders. She leaned forward, and smiled provocatively, pressing one foot against his. "What makes you say that?" she asked. And Haberlin, who, like most men, was always ready for a flirtation with a pretty girl, rose readily to the occasion. "You ought to be up in the mountains somewhere, climbing around rocks;*or camping out in the great forests we have, in America; or swimming in the sea. You would look fine in a bathing suit." "But it wouldn't be much fun doing all these things by myself, would it?" she pointed out. "Oh, well, a girl like you will never suffer from loncsomeness," said Haberlin, a trifle hastily. "Do you really like being cooped up in London all the time?" she persisted, determined to keep the conversation as intimate as possible. Haberlin thought for a while before replying, and they listened to the cool lap-lap of the water along the bank. "I wouldn't like to spend all my life over here, much as I like this side. But I wanted to learn something of Europe, to have a background of European culture before settling down where I was born and bred." "Then you mean to return to the States some day?" "Yes, I have a cousin out there who wants me to run one of the most important dailies on the Western side for him. We think alike in lots of ways, and intend to revolutionise American journalism between us." . He broke off with a laugh, and looked at her quizzically. "Didn't think I had any set purpose in life, did you?" he said. "Thought I was content just to drift along?" Iho girl was flattered by his confidence, for Haberlin as a rule talked very little about himself or his own affairs. She had always been rather attracted by him, but lately she knew herself to be very much in love with him. She looked up at him eagerly, an unwonted tenderness in her eyes. "I have always had a pretty good opinion of you," she told him. >

"Quite unmerited, I'm afraid," replied Haberlin easily, then stretched himself and yawned.

"What about scouting roifnd for some tea?" he suggested. "The sun is giving me quite a thirst." •

Marjorie suggested a place she knew of half a mile further on, and Haberlin paddled them up stream with swift, sure strokes, for a canoe was something that he really understood. The girl sat watching him with admiratk .1, thinking how well he looked in flannels.

They soon reached the "Ark," a large white house-boat that had been turned into a riverside restaurant where good meals could be obtained at a prohibitive cost. Behind it was,moored a floating dance floor, usually very crowded durirtg the week-end, foe the place had quite a vogue, chiefly in theatrical circles.

"How splendid, we have the place almost entirely to ourselves," cried Marjorie as .they climbed on board.

ics, the Thames is all right if you keep away from it Saturdays and Sundays," agreed Haberlin, as they settled down in the long cane chairs and ordered tea.

"This is a very good spot," he continued, looking around with satisfaction. "Have you any plans for this evening, Marjorie ?" fc

She shook her head, and waited expectantly.

What about a stro'll along the riverside after tea, and then an early dinner here ?"

r, l'd rather do that than anything else " she replied. 0 '

They were old friends, so they did not have to keep up an exhaustive patter of small talk, and as Haberlin lapsed into long silences, Marjorie entered into his mood by saying nothing as they walked side by side along the river bank, watching the sun as it slowly sank out of sight, a flaming ball of fire in a pale green, opalescent sky.

When they were back on the houseboat, waiting for dinner, they went on to the dance floor, dimly lighted bv manv coloured lanterns, and danced together for a while to gramophone music. Marjorie was keyed up to concert pitch. Eveiv second of the time site was with Habeilin she was acutely conscious of his nearness; never had she been so in love vith him as she was that evening. 1 here must be some response, she told herself, or she could never feel so intensely. In many ways she knew herself to be far more attractive than Una. After dinner the moon rose, casting strange shadows on the-rippling water, and as soon as they had finished their liqueurs they went back to their long cane chairs at the end of the boat. The few who had dined there that evening had already left, and complete silence fell upon the world, only broken by the cry of a night-bird and the rustle of the breeze among the trees.

Marjorie gave a little shiver of excitement and suspense.

Not cold are you ?" asked Haberlin. reaching over and taking her hand in his for a moment.

Marjorie leaned slightly towards him and clasped his hands in her own,

"What do they feel like?" she asked 111 a faint whisper. But before he could answer the silence was dramatically broken by the sound of a piano on a house-boat hidden round the bend, and then a Roman's voice out with startling clearness. c "Juanita Sebastian!" murmured Marjorie excitedly. 1 hat temperamental prima donna, who had come over to England to appear at Covent Garden, was singing that half tender, half mocking, air with its undertone of passion from "Carmen":

"Si tu m aiines" came to them out of the darkness, arid they listened motionless to the end. hand, in hand. WTien the music ceased, Marjorie gave a low cry and suddenly crouched beside Haberlin, burying her face on his knee, her hot lips on his hands.

For a second an answering quiver of emotion ran through him; he bent forward as though to take her in his arms. Then he drew back and remained motionless.

Marjorie began to sob quietly. Very gently, Haberlin raised her to her feet and stood beside her, gazing into the night.

"Some day," he told her. "you will meet a man who will make you very happy, and if I am not in England at the time. I hope you will write and tell me all about him. And I shall consider him a very lucky man."

(To be continued Saturday next.)