The Incomplete Amorist | Page 9

and distant and polite. Not hail-fellow
well-met with a "brother artist," like she had been yesterday. It was all
very difficult indeed. Even if it really did turn out to be true, if the
wonderful thing had happened to her, if she really was in love she
would not try a bit to make him like her. That would be forward and
"horrid." She would never try to attract any man. Those things must

come of themselves or not at all.
She arranged her skirt in more effective folds, and wondered how it
would look as one came up the woodland path. She thought it would
look rather picturesque. It was a nice heliotrope colour. It would look
like a giant Parma violet against the dark green background. She hoped
her hair was tidy. And that her hat was not very crooked. However little
one desires to attract, one may at least wish one's hat to be straight.
She looked for the twentieth time at her watch, the serviceable silver
watch that had been her mother's. Half-past six, and he had not come.
Well, when he did come she would pretend she had only just got there.
Or how would it be if she gave up being a Parma violet and went a little
way down the path and then turned back when she heard him coming?
She walked away a dozen yards and stood waiting. But he did not come.
Was it possible that he was not coming? Was he ill--lying uncared for
at the Peal of Bells in the village, with no one to smooth his pillow or
put eau-de-cologne on his head?
She walked a hundred yards or so towards the village on the spur of
this thought.
Or perhaps he had come by another way to the trysting place? That
thought drove her back. He was not there.
Well, she would not stay any longer. She would just go away, and
come back ever so much later, and let him have a taste of waiting. She
had had her share, she told herself, as she almost ran from the spot. She
stopped suddenly. But suppose he did not wait? She went slowly back.
She sat down again, schooled herself to patience.
What an idiot she had been! Like any school-girl. Of course he had
never meant to come. Why should he? That page in her diary called out
to her to come home and burn it. Care for him indeed! Not she! Why
she hadn't exchanged ten words with the man!

"But I knew it was all nonsense when I wrote it," she said. "I only just
put it down to see what it would look like."
* * * * *
Mr. Eustace Vernon roused himself, and yawned.
"It's got to be done, I suppose. Buck up,--you'll feel better after your
bath! Jove! Seven o'clock. Will she have waited? She's a keen player if
she has. It's just worth trying, I suppose."
The church clock struck the half-hour as he turned into the wood.
Something palely violet came towards him.
"So you are here," he said. "Where's the pink frock?"
"It's--it's going to the wash," said a stiff and stifled voice. "I'm sorry I
couldn't get here at six. I hope you didn't wait long?"
"Not very long," he said, smiling; "but--Great Heavens, what on earth
is the matter?"
"Nothing," she said.
"But you've been--you are--"
"I'm not," she said defiantly,--"besides, I've got neuralgia. It always
makes me look like that."
"My Aunt!" he thought. "Then she was here at six and--she's been
crying because I wasn't and--oh, where are we?" "I'm so sorry you've
got neuralgia," he said gently, "but I'm awfully glad you didn't get here
at six. Because my watch was wrong and I've only just got here, and I
should never have forgiven myself if you'd waited for me a single
minute. Is the neuralgia better now?"
"Yes," she said, smiling faintly, "much better. It was rather sharp while
it lasted, though."

"Yes," he said, "I see it was. I am so glad you did come. But I was so
certain you wouldn't that I didn't bring any of my traps. So we can't
begin the picture to-day. Will you start a sketch, or is your neuralgia
too bad?"
He knew it would be: and it was.
So they merely sat on the pine carpet and talked till it was time for her
to go back to the late Rectory breakfast. They told each other their
names that day. Betty talked very carefully. It was most important that
he should think well of her. Her manner had changed, as she had
promised herself it should do if she found she cared for him. Now she
was with him she knew, of course, that she