Big Game | Page 6

that Ronald would make any striking
success in literature in the time still remaining under the terms of the
agreement, unless--as she herself had hinted--desperate measures were
adopted to meet desperate needs. A scheme was hatching in Margot's
brain,--daring, uncertain; such a scheme as no one but a young and self-
confident girl could have conceived, but holding nevertheless the
possibilities of success. She wanted to think it out, and movement in
the fresh air gave freedom to her thoughts.
Really it was simple enough,--requiring only a little trouble, a little
engineering, a little harmless diplomacy. Ronald was a mere babe
where such things were concerned, but he would be obedient and do as
he was told, and for the rest, Margot was confident of her own powers.
The speculative frown gave way to a smile; she laughed, a gleeful,
girlish laugh, and tossed her head, unconsciously acting a little
duologue, with nods and frowns and upward languishing glance. All
things seem easy to sweet and twenty, when the sun shines, and the
scent of spring is in the air. The completed scheme stood out clear and

distinct in Margot's mind. Only one small clue was lacking, and that
she was even now on the way to discover!
CHAPTER THREE.
A TONIC.
Margot wandered about the Park so lost in her own thoughts that she
was dismayed to find that it was already one o'clock, when warned by
the departing stream of nursemaids that it must be approaching
luncheon hour she at last consulted her watch.
Half an hour's walk, cold cutlets and an irate Agnes, were prospects
which did not smile upon her; it seemed infinitely more agreeable to
turn in an opposite direction, and make as quickly as possible for
Oxford Terrace, where she would be certain of a welcome from poor
sad Edith, who was probably even now lunching on bread and cheese
and anxiety, while her two sturdy infants tucked into nourishing
beefsteak. Edith was one of those dear things who did not preach if you
were late, but was content to give you what she had, without
apologising.
Margot trotted briskly past Dorset Square, took a short cut behind the
Great Central Hotel, and emerged into the dreary stretch of Marylebone
Road.
Even in the spring sunshine it looked dull and depressing, with the
gloomy hospital abutting at the corner, the flights of dull red flats on
the right.
A block of flats--in appearance the most depressing--in reality the most
interesting of buildings!
Inside those walls a hundred different households lived, and moved,
and had their being. Every experience of life and death, of joy and grief,
was acted on that stage, the innumerable curtains of which were so
discreetly drawn. Margot scanned the several rows of windows with a
curious interest. To-day new silk brise-bise appeared on the second

floor, and a glimpse of a branching palm. Possibly some young bride
had found her new home in this dull labyrinth, and it was still beautiful
in her sight! Alas, poor bird, to be condemned to build in such a nest!
Those curtains to the right were shockingly dirty, showing that some
over-tired housewife had retired discomfited from the struggle against
London grime. Up on the sixth floor there was a welcome splash of
colour in the shape of Turkey red curtains, and a bank of scarlet
geranium. Margot had decided long since that this flat must belong to
an art student to whom colour was a necessity of life; who toiled up the
weary length of stairs on her return from the day's work, tasting in
advance the welcome of the cosy room. She herself never forgot to look
up at that window, or to send a mental message of sympathy and cheer
to its unknown occupant.
Oxford Terrace looked quite cheerful in comparison with the
surrounding roads,--and almost countrified into the bargain, now that
the beech trees were bursting into leaf. Margot passed by two or three
blocks, then mounting the steps at the corner of a new terrace, walked
along within the railed-in strip of lawn until she reached a house in the
middle of the row. A peep between draped Nottingham lace curtains
showed a luncheon table placed against the wall, after the cheerful
fashion of furnished apartments, when one room does duty for three, at
which sat two little sailor-suited lads and a pale mother, smiling
bravely at their sallies.
Margot felt the quick contraction of the heart which she experienced
afresh at every sight of Edith's changed face, but next moment she
whistled softly in the familiar key, and saw the light flash back. Edith
sprang to the door, and appeared flushed and smiling.
"Margot, how sweet of you! I am glad! Have you had lunch?"
"No. Give me anything you