NO WOMAN'S LAND

Wairarapa Times-Age, 6 July 1938, Page 10

NO WOMAN'S LAND

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT COPYRIGH'

BY

JANE ENGLAND

(Author of “Sjambok,” “Trader’s Lie ense,” &c.)

CHAPTER X After making an enormous effort ano arranging that there should be not only eggs, but also scones for breakfast Dolly waited for some sign of life from Nella. She hated knocking on people’s doors and crying cheerfully “breakfast in ready.” But on the other hand it seemed to her that it was very possible that the girl was too shy to come out. She made a grimace at David who was sitting on the verandah and gazing with a sardonic eye at the breakfast table, and went to the spare room. She knocked and waited, trying to urge her voice into the bright and bustling tones of the proper hostess. “Come in,” said a doubtful voice, and she pushed open the door and found Nella sitting on the edge of the bed dressed again in her cotton frock and canvas. shoes, while the clothes that Dolly had lent her for the funeral were put tidily on a chair. “Hullo, I hope you had a decent night. I’m afraid that bed’s pretty grim,” said Dolly.. “Breakfast’s ready. Shall we go along?” “Yes, thank you,” said Nella. She could not think what she should say to these two. They talked in a why that seemed to her odd. In fact, they appeared to talk all the time, and she had become accustomed to silence. For hours together she and her father had not said a word, and the necessity for mere conversation had never become a reality to her. Dumbly, she followed Doljy out on to the verandah. “Hullo,” said David and he stood up politely, “how are you? I hope you slept well.” , “Yes, thank'you,” she said again. Dolly glanced at David from behind Nella, her eyebrows lifted in despair. Nella sat down obediently in a chair that David held for her. She was now sick with nervousness. At her own place she had eaten casually when the mood took her. There had never been proper meals; her father had never wanted them. When he felt hungry he used to go and forage in the tumbledown larder; only occasionally, when she had cooked buck at night, had they eaten together. It was sheer agony to her to eat in front of other people; she became immensely aware of the mere fact of eating, of her jaws munching. She felt that the sound of her eating must be heard as a loud noise by the Hastings. She could hardly swallow.

Eventually and inevitably, she choked over her coffee, and fled, crimson and mortified, from the verandah and back to her own room. Dolly was startled and looked for help to David, who was overcome with laughter. “No, no—but I’m frightfully sorry for the kid,” he said at last. “But it was funny. First of all she sat there and glared at us ” “Sheer nerves,” interrupted Dolly coldly. “ glared at us, and then choked. Dolly, why does she glare at us like that? Heaven knows we’ve not done her wrong.” “I don’t know,” said Dolly, “perhaps it’s simply because we’ve done well by her. She may be one of those sort of people who can’t stomach having to be grateful. I don’t think she approves of it. You should have seen how she yearned towards the Carfrae woman.” “I wish I had a morning paper,” said David. “What are we-going to do all the long day? I ought to hear from those Johannesburg people by tomorrow or the day after.” “I,” said Dolly, with conscious virtue, “have got to interview my cook, and — er —arrange the menus for the day.’’;, She strolled round to the kitchen, which was full of acrid smoke, and called to Jacob. She had an idea that there was some buck, and a guinea fowl that the cattle inspector had left as a gift. And she had tinned vegetables. Jacob came out of the kitchen with tears streaming down his face, and grinned at her affably. At least, thought Dolly thankfully, he’ll do wha! I tell him; he won’t look surprised, and he won’t say he never did that in his last place. She heard the sound of a horse cantering, and looking past the mine with its dreary slag heap, grey against the blue arc of the sky, she saw Archie Fellowes riding towards her. “Oh, my Lord!” she thought, “at this hour, too. David can cope with this.” And she went firmly into the smoke filled kitchen. Archie rode round to the front verandah, where David still sat in a wicker chair. He had seen Dolly and knew that she had seen him; and her precipitate retreat had made him feel hurt and yet angry. So this—this preposterous idea was going round that he had—had killed old Howard! That he thought, could only be due to Nella, and his eyes hardened. If the Hastings, who were presumably sane people, actually believed it, then things might be bad. But over and beyond his anger and uneasiness, was an aching pain. He loved Nella. God knew why. She wasn’t intelligent or amusing, she was not even particularly pretty; but during those hot empty days, when he had ridden with her, somehow she had become the person he wanted. She had been shy, and yet comradely. If his first feelings for her had been of pity, now he loved her. Though now he found it difficult to tell what his feelings were —almost hatred, perhaps. He was too raw, and the business was too new for him to reason, to tell himself that she was young and crude and instinctive, and that after all she had some excuse. So when he came to the verandah, his manner as he dismounted, was guarded.

“Hullo,” said David pleasantly, “enter first murderer.” “Thanks,” said Archie. “Oh, don’t be a fool,” said David. “Come up and have some coffee. By the way, Nella Howard’s here —did you know?” “No, I didn’t,” said Archie. “I’ll be getting along, I think. I’m going into the Dorp.” “Frankly,” said David, “I think you were rather a fool not to be there yesterday; nasty minds people have. Some think that you stayed away to avoid entanglements with Nella, and some that your conscience made it impossible for you to stand by the graveside . . . you know what they’re like.” “In that case,” said Archie grimly, “I’ll ride in now, and see if anybody cares to say anything to me.” “Don’t be crass,” said David. “And look here, it’s no business of mine, but it seems to me rather childish to avoid Nella.’ Archie turned upon him a cold, hazel eye, and his mouth became compressed. “Yes, I know I babble,” said David, “but there’s always a modicum of sound sense in my babbling, ask Dolly.” . “I saw Mrs Hastings,” said Archie. David looked at him and wondered what on earth Dolly had done. “Anyway,” he said briefly, “there’s a new gendarme at Klinter’s Dorp. Intelligent, I shouldn’t wonder. He’s coming out here sometime, when he’s finished tying up Hudson in a neat parcel and dispatching him to Salisbury. I suggest you unsaddle and wait for him here! Then if he has anything to say he can say it, and you can answer back without any publicity.” Fellowes hesitated, and then he nodded. “Thanks,’’ he said. 71 ‘ “Put your beast in the small paddock behind here? There is a straggly tree or two for shade. You don’t get horse-sickness at this time of year, do you?” “It’s safe enough until sunset,” said Archie as he picked up the bridle and waited for David; and as David got to the verandah steps, Nella appeared. She had heard the sound of hoofs, and thought that it must be the police or something. Better to face things than wait and be dragged out; if it was that beast Hudson, she’d go out and meet him. She wasn’t afraid of him any longer; she wouldn’t be afraid. Other people didn’t seem to think him frightening. She came to the French doors and saw Archie. Her heart gave a sick leap. Out there in the sunshine with his face shadowed by his terai he looked as she had always seen him when he came over to her. father’s homestead. She used to stay in the but when she heard the sound of his horse, used to wait until he was outside the door and had dismounted, before she appeared. She had waited, clenching her fists, in her endeavour to stop herself running out long before he got near. And now ... he wasn’t here to see her . . . not now. Not any more. A bright tide of scarlet poured into her face, and she stood there staring at him. He looked back at her, and took off his terai. Just as he had always done, she thought, only now his face was smooth and unsmiling. “Good morning, Nella,” he said politely. “Good morning,” she muttered, and brushed blindly past David, and away round the corner of the house. She had to be out of doors . . somewhere where there was space. (To be Continued.)