"SECOND CHANCE"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 29 August 1940, Page 10

"SECOND CHANCE"

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. COPYRIGHT.

BY

HOLLOWAY HORN

(Author of “George,” "Two Men and Mary,” etc.

CHAPTER IV. (Continued). It was all casual and friendly, but as he walked along London Road he was thinking whether he would go. There was no question whether he wanted to; he did. There was equally no question whether he wanted to see Mary Donovan; he did. Nevertheless, he hesitated. In the end he decided to go and if he ran into her to be guided by her attitude whether to suggest sitting together. After all, there was no reason why his life should be that of a hermit. Besides, it would attract attention to him if he made no social contacts whatever.

■ “I’m going to the pictures tonight, Mrs Gaddesden,” he announced when she brought in his tea.

“Do you good, Mi- Ferguson. You shut yourself up with your reading and wireless far too much. It’s all very well for an old woman like me. Not that I see much in the films. They all seem very much of a muchness to me.’’

He smiled and turned to the consideration of the excellent meal she had provided. In any case, he decided, as he walked back into the town that evening, friendship between a modern man and woman was possible and could be a fine and valuable thing. He was not in love with Mary Donovan, nor had he any intention of falling in love. And her kindness to him, he realised, was merely part of her instinctive good nature. Moreover, the past was dead and done with; he was a normal human being again with the normal human dread of loneliness.

But. in all probability, he realised as he appoached the cinema, he would not see her at all, for the film was an attraction and people were surging into the theatre. Nevertheless he did meet her..

“So you came after all,” he heard her voice suddenly, as she fell in by ms side.

“Yes. You on your own?” “For a change,” she smiled. “Then take pity on my loneliness and sit with me?”

"I shall be pleased to." “What part of the house do you prefer?” “The front of the balcony. One and six. You get both tickets, will you? She slipped a shilling and sixpence into his hand as she was speaking. “But surely . . .” he began. “Nonsense. Fifty-fifty. I’m a modern young woman with a job and don’t you forget it.” “Just as you say,” he laughed. “But I thought that it was one of man’s, few privileges to pay for the seats at a cinema!”

“I don’t believe in privileges at all,” she said firmly. Besides the film there were two shorter ones and the news reel. The small films were very ordinary, but the chief picture was in a different class. There were brains .behind it and, moreover. what is rare in films, imagination.

Some of the people sitting around them wondered what it was all about, and openly sighed for the films they were used to, the films which macle no demand on their intelligence,'but Mary Donovan and her companion followed it in silence.

In silence, too, they went out into the starlit night. “I usually get a bus, but I think I’ll walk tonight," Mary said. "Good. I need a walk too. What did you think of it?” “I don't quite know. The photography was wonderful, but, particularly towards the end, the characters struck me as being swayed too much by intelligence and reason.” "Can one be?" he hazarded. "Yes. The way he let his son go off in the space ship to what seemed like certain death, was £ll very heroic cf course, but it wasn’t human.” Ferguson nodded in agreement: "You mistrust intelligence?" "No. Not exactly. But I don’t think it's enough; a life that was controlled simply by intelligence would be a very dull affair, don’t you think?” “I suppose it would,” he said doubtfully.

“Understanding and sympathy are just as important,” she said after a silence.

“But they should be allied with intelligence?’’.

“Of course. I didn't like the dress the girl was wearing, either. It seemed as if they were straining at an effect. And it wasn’t a very practical rig, if you come to think of it. Not as suitable as that of a girl who wears a tweed coat and skirt and sensible shoes in the country.” "But more beautiful, perhaps?” "And another weakness was the tendency to uniformity in the clothes. I don’t believe that people, certainly not women, would ever dress alike if they could possibly avoid it.” “I agree,” he smiled. “It’s men whose minds turn to uniforms. But nurses always look nice. And nuns." he added. "So do the Life Guards in London because the uniforms are attractive. But I don't think people would wear uniforms, however attractive, if they could avoid them.” And so on. Quite an interesting talk and they reached the street where her mother lived in what seemed a surprisingly short time. "Mother’s still up., Come in for five minutes," “Well . . . thank vou very much." lie said.

“I’ve heard about you from my sister-in-law.” Mrs Donovan said when Mary introduced him. "You're luck to be there." "Indeed I am.” "Do you drink cocoa? I always have it for Mary and her young men after she's been to the pictures or the theatre.” "I should like some very much.” ho said, and noticed that Mary was smiling. "Well, what was it like?” Mrs Donovan went on as she watched them drink the cocoa.

“Very good.” “Too much picture-going, if you ask me!” “But we didn’t ask you, dear," Mary said with a smile. “Inspector Garrod was saying the other evening that they do a lot of harm.” “Or was it that he agreed with you, dear, when you said it?” Mary suggested. “Well, that’s the same thing, surely?" “Hardly,” Mary smiled. “You are a Londoner, I hear, Mr Ferguson?” Mrs Donovan asked, turning to her visitor.

“Er . . I’ve lived in London,” he said. “And you’re settling down in Mossford?” Mrs Donovan pursued relentlessly. “Yes.” “By the way, there’s a very good show at the Theatre Royal next week,” Mary put in, apparently in an attempt to change the subject. "I suppose most of your friends are in London?” her mother went on, however. “Yes. Thanks very much for the cocoa. Mrs Donovan. It’s getting late.” He rose as he was speaking. “Aye. It’s nearly eleven," Mrs Donovan said. | “Good night!" he said. “And thank 'you." I Mary Donovan went to the door [ with him.

“You mustn't mind mother,” she said. "She’s curious about everybody.” “On the contrary, I like her very much.” “But she shouldn’t cross-examine people like she does.” “What is the play at the Theatre next week?” he asked. “It’s a revue called ‘Laugh . .and Love,’ or something silly like that. But Lucia Desmund is in it.” He started almost as if she had struck him. "What . . what name did you say?” “Lucia Desmund,” she said in a wondering tone. “Do you know her?” “I . . I’ve seen her, of course.” “She was here last year,” Mary Donovan went on in a different tone. “She was very good indeed.” "Would you care to come with me one evening? I’m free every evening.” “Yes, I would,” she said. “Monday would suit me—today week.”

“And me. . I’ll book some seats.” “You’d better. Two and four in the circle are quite good enough. I shall look forward to seeing Lucia Desmond again.” “I once saw her when I was in London.” “I shall look forward to Monday, Thank you very much for coming with me, Miss Donovan.” She watched him go down the steps of the rather old-fashioned house and walk hurriedly away. “You are all right, Mary?" her mother asked when she returned to the sitting room. “Of course.” "You look tired. Anything upset you?” “No! Why should it?” “Does George know you've been out with Mr Ferguson?" “The Inspector? He’ll probably detect it," Mary laughed. "He won't like it.” “Then he can do the other tiling, mother mine! I’m a free agent. As a matter of fact, it was 1 who suggested it." Mrs Donovan shrugged her shoulders: “When I was a girl!" "Yes, I know, dear. But I don’t believe a word of it,” Mary laughed. “Your aunt was talking' about Mr

Ferguson." “Then she shouldn't. There’s not the slightest need for her to take lodgers at all, and if she does she needn’t gossip about them.” "There’s no need to get all hot and bothered. Of course she talked about him. Why shouldn’t she?” “It’s quite clear that he doesn’t want his private affairs gossiped about.” "And why doesn’t he?" Mrs Donovan asked. "Because they’re his private affairs. I imagine. I’m for bed!” ’ "So am I. I don’t like him anything like as much as I like George." "The Inspector will be pleased!" Mary laughed. “There's a great deal to be said for George,” Mrs Donovan insisted. "We know about him.” "Every mortal thing there is to be known. I should say." her daughter agreed. “I don’t suppose he’s had such an education as this Mr Ferguson, but he’s dene very well with what he has had. Don’t you think it funny that a gentleman like Mr Ferguson should suddenly come to a firm in Mossford and become a clerk?" "Yes. I do." ’There's something behind him. Mary." "I think there is. And I feel certain that one of these days, in his own time, he'll tell me." 'T've got no patience with all this romantic nonsense. It comes from going to these pictures so much,” Mrs Donovan said sharply. "It isn’t romantic, mother, and it isn't nonsense. He’s just a friend of mine —a man who happens to interest me a great deal." "He might be married. Probably is." “I don’t think he is. But ho certainly has not said that he wasn’t." "Then where’s his wife?" “He may not have one. If he lias they have obviously separated. But why all the fuss, mother? I’ve been to the pictures with quite a lot of other men one time and another." “But this is different. You're not a very experienced person. Mary.” her mother said warningly. "No. 1 wish I were." "And I think it very unwise to play fast and loose with George. And it's my duty to tell you so." her mother insisted.

"Oh. bother George!" Mary said crossly.

"lie’s a very decent man and he's very much in love with you." “But I'm not in love with him a bit. and I've told him so—a hundred times."