TWO MEN AND MARY

Wairarapa Times-Age, 2 May 1938, Page 10

TWO MEN AND MARY

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

COPYRIGHT.

,ey

HOLLOWAY HORN.

(Author of “George,” “That Man at Claverton Mansions,” etc.)

(Synopsis). MARY ROSSITER, eighteen, excep tionally pretty, having completed her education at Wybrow Abbey, goes to Cambridge. Excepting her father, JOHN ROSSITER, a doctor with a big practice in South London, she has no other relatives. Gambler as he is, John Rossiter is often hard up. He, however, conceals the fact from Mary and manages to pay her expenses. The three years Mary spends at Si Hilda’s are happy though uneventful. She works hard and obtains an excellent degree and proficiency in French, German and Spanish. On her return to London, SIR HECTOR GILROY, the head of a big firm of South American merchants, employs her as his personal secretary. Sir Hector is an ugly old man, with, however, a pleasant smile. From the first he likes Mary. One day, on the invitation of Sir Hector, Mary goes to his place at Mossford, where LADY GILROY is giving a party. There she meets RONALD GILROY, Sir Hector’s son, who has recently returned from South America. Ronald Gilroy is an attractive young man of twenty-five and seems much too anxious for Mary’s company. Mary dances with him once or twice during the evening, but she does not like him. She returns to her house at Wandsworth Common to find her father taken suddenly ill. Dr Forsyth, her father’s partner, assures that there is no immediate danger. On the following day. however, owing to a sudden relapse, John Rossiter dies. ANTHONY McCarthy, her father’s solicitor, arranges the sale of the doctor’s practice and the house. Mary then takes a small flat at Red Lion Square. From the first, Mary instinctively trusts McCarthy, who offers to be her friend. He is a young man of thirty, six feet tall, with curly dark brown hair and frank blue eyes. Some days pass and Mary finds her work in the office extremely embarrassing. Sir Hector, whose health is steadily breaking down, leaves matters to his son and makes him a director. Ronald Gilroy constantly asks her to go out with him to dinners and dances and Mary finds it hard to rebuff him, since he is her chief. She, however, resents his attentions, the more so when he says he is married. Mary confides her troubles to McCarthy. her only friend. She learns some of his trouble, too. He is married and his wife is in a sanatorium in Davos, where she is being treated for lung trouble. (Now Read On.) CHAPTER II Continued). Lady Gilroy wrote to her son from each port at which they touched, and her nows was not reassuring. Indeed, in her later letters she admitted questioning the wisdom of her husband’s retirement. It was becoming more certain. however, that Sir Hector would not live to return to the office. Mary was alone in her fiat when she heard of his death. It was a shock; she felt it almost as a personal loss. “The British Broadcasting Corporation regret to announce that Sir Hector Gilroy died in Shanghai this afternoon.” And the announcer, in his beautiful voice, went on to give a few details of the great merchant’s life.

That meant, of course, that Ronald Gilroy was now Mary’s boss. He had been so. in effect, for months past, but always she thought of herself as Sir Hector’s secretary.

She switched off the wireless; she wanted to think. But her meditation was interrupted by a ring at the bell of hex - flat. She glanced at her watch. It was nearly ten o’clock —an unusual hour for visitors.

Mary Rossiter opened the dooi- to find that Ronald Gilroy was there. “Have you heard the news?” he asked.

“Yes. Just now.” “May I come in?” “Er . . yes.” She stood aside and he entered the tiny hall of her flat. “I’m most desperately upset. I thought you wouldn’t mind.” No. It’s nearly ten o’clock, of course. But come in for a moment.”

“It . . it almost frightens me, Mary. The firm’s so big. . ” “You’ll see things in a truer perspective in a few days’ time. After all, we’ve carried on fairly successfully these last few months.” “I’m not cut out for business.”

“Nonsense,” she said briskly. "You go home and get a good night’s rest.” “I suppose so. I'll go now. It’s good of you to see me at all.” Things followed the even tenor of their way in the office for som time after Sir Hector's death, but Mary noticed that more and more of the work was left to her. There were days when Gilroy did not put in an appearance at all, and she saw his name mentioned in connection with the raid in a night club of an unsavoury character. One evening after he had been absent for a longer week-end (han usual, he and Mary were alone in the palatial of thp managing director.

“Oh. damn the work!” he said suddenly. “I’m through.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Let’s go places,” he went on with a smile. “You look fagged out.” “I’m all right,’ she said. “Then we’ll have dinner somewhere.” “No,” she said. “Why, don’t you like me?” he demanded. “Since you ask, my main reason—indeed my only reason —is that you insist on putting me in embarrassing positions.” “What on earth do you mean?” he asked in genuine surprise. “Exactly what I say, Mr Gilroy. You are my employer. I am here as your secretary. It is unfair —I could use a stronger term if I wished to be unpleasant —on your part to suggest these dinners outside office hours. My private life is my own as much as yours is your own.” “It’s just a friendly gesture.” “Then why not make the gesture to Mr Gaily, say?” Gilroy grinned: “I can imagine nothing more awful than sitting opposite to Daily for a whole meal. He would positively give me indigestion.” “It’s merely because I’m a woman; and fair game, I suppose?” “No. It’s because we’re here together after a hard day’s work, and I happen to like you. You amuse me. And never more than when you’re in one of these bracing moods. Now put a spot of powder on your nose and we’ll toddle off. No one in all the world will be the wiser—or the poorer —because of it.” “No, thank you. I prefer my private time to be my own.” “I was only suggesting a pleasant evening, just as I should have done to any other girl who amused me. It is almost a pity that you happen to be my secretary. I believe that otherwise you would have come.” “Possibly, but in the circumstances I would rather not.” “Then I think you’re very stupid.” he said, angrily. “I assure you that whatever else I may be, I am not stupid,” she said calmly. “I’m really—for a mere woman —quite intelligent.” “Then I’ll find someone who’s not quiet so damned intelligent,” he said, rudely, and left the office. She shrugged her shoulders and. having locked away the various documents, she too. left the office and slowly walked back to her fiat. Gilroy’s angry statement that she was “stupid” because she had refused to go out that evening with him annoyed her intensely. It was arrogant and conceited. Moreover, it made her position in the office very difficult. In Lincoln’s Inn Fields she ran into Anthony McCarthy. “Well met!” he said. “And how are you?” “Angry. Very angry.” “I say, you certainly look tired.” “Tired!” she said with a sudden smile. “But we are going to have our meal in our own flat if we wish.” “Tell me all about it,” he said as he fell in at her side. “It’s that fellow Gilroy, isn’t it?” "Yes,” she said, surprised that he had taken, hold of the truth so quickly. “But, tell me, how is Mrs McCarthy?” “Poor Evelyn she’s desperately ill. She's on a new treatment —some new kind of injections—but I’m doubtful. There’s little hope of her ever living in this climate again.” “Have you had your meal?” she asked.

“No. I was just on my way to a pub it. Fleet Street.” “If you care to go into the little fish shop in Red Lion Street, and buy a pound of fillet of sole —it will cost you about two shillings—l’ll stand you a meal in the flat.”

“I’d love it,” he said. “One gets infernally lonely. Still, it’s worse for poor old Evelyn.” A pleasant couple of hours, and then, when he went, Mary Rossiter felt that her evening had not been wasted. Anthony McCarthy was worth while. His brain was as acute as her own, and his view of the many questions they had discussed were both original and surprising.

Not until he was going did he mention Ronald Gilroy. “Don’t tell me if you'd rather not. but I’m a little curious as to what upset you this evening.” “Mr Gilroy asked me to ‘go places’ with him, that’s all. And when I refused he was rather rude.” “Oh?” “He said I was ‘stupid.’ ” “Because you refused to go with him?” "Yes.”

“A young man with a high opinion of himself,” was his comment. "But —if I may ask—why don’t you go?” “I didn't want to. My private life is my own.”

"I think a girl should bear in mind that if a man is interested in her, his persistence is only natural. You are—obviously—an attractive girl. You’re singularly intelligent, for one thing.” "Thank you, kind sir,” she said. “Don’t misunderstand me. Very often attractive girls are not intelligent; often, indeed, they are singularly unintelligent. Yom- relative positions are

rather unfortunate, but I'm not sure that I blame Gilroy, altogether.’ “I’ve made it perfectly clear to him that I would rather not.” “He may be in love with you” “I’m certainly not with him. He iritates me. Besides” —she was thinking at the moment of the wife in Rio —“there is no question of love.” “There is always a question of love where a man and woman are concerned.” “It makes things difficult in the office. If it goes on I shall leave.” “That’s a drastic step,” he pointed out. “And I should have to give him as a reference,” she said with a smile. “You’ll probably find it a simple matter to . . choke him off, as it were. If a decent' man sees that a girl is not interested in him, he doesn’t pester her—once he sees that he has no chance.” “But Ronald Gilroy is different.” “Don't let it worry you. Just say ‘No.' After all, in a way, it's a compliment.” “But I don’t like him.” “Exactly. If you did, the whole sitshouldn’t treat it too seriously if I nation would have been simpler. I were you.” "You're always . . solidly wise,” she said. "Wise!” he . echoed her word. “I wonder? Sometimes I think that all men are fools . . particularly the wise ones. Don't forget, Mary, I'm always anxious to be your friend as well as your solicitor. Good bye . . and thank you for a most delightful evening." (To be Continued).