The Making of a Soul | Page 5

the subject now and for
evermore."
"I say, old chap, I'm awfully sorry----"
Barry's impulsive speech got no further, for the other raised his hand to
cut it short.
"All right, Barry, we'll take it all as said. Henceforth no such person as
Miss Rees--I mean Lady Saxonby--exists for me; and if you'll
remember that it will make things easier for us both."
"Very well, Owen." Barry felt emboldened to light a cigarette; and then,
with a tactlessness born of mental discomfort, he asked a blundering
question. "What shall you do now, old man? Have another shot at big
game for a bit, or what?"
"Another shot--I say, Barry, why on earth should I go back the moment
I've got home? Oh, I see!" He smiled cynically. "You mean town won't
be very pleasant for a bit? Well, I daresay it won't, but thank God no
one will dare to say much to me!" His jaw squared itself rather
aggressively. "But I don't intend to quit. On the contrary, my firm
intention is to remain here, do some good work, and, incidentally,
marry."
Barry swung round and faced him, openly surprised.
"Marry? But--whom?"

"Oh, I don't know ... at the moment; but someone. You look astonished,
Barry! Why shouldn't I marry? Ah, I see! You think because one
woman's turned me down no one else will care to risk her happiness
with me! Well, of course my value is considerably depreciated, no
doubt; but after all, men are in the minority, and I daresay I'll be able to
find some girl to take pity on me!"
"Don't talk like that, Owen!" Barry spoke hastily, and his blue eyes
looked rather stern. "You don't want a girl to take you out of pity, do
you? That's not much of a basis for a happy marriage, is it?"
"No, Barry." He took the rebuke well. "I was talking like a fool. But
honestly, I do mean to marry--as soon as possible. Oh, I daresay I'm
taking it the wrong way, but it seems to me that there's only one thing
for a man in my position to do, and that is to show that he's not
heart-broken because one unscrupulous woman has treated him badly!"
"That's all very well--but what about the other woman? Are you going
to marry the first girl you meet, irrespective of love, or what are you
going to do? I can understand your feeling for Miss Rees has changed
its nature--love and hate are akin, I know, but still----"
"No, Barry, you're wrong." He spoke very gently. "I don't hate Vivian.
Why should I? She merely exercised her feminine prerogative and
changed her mind. Besides, one only hates big things. Vivian isn't big.
She's very small, or she'd not have done this thing. If she'd asked me to
release her, I'd have done it, and never have uttered a reproach. It's the
heartlessness, the unnecessary cruelty of this that hurts me so. I loved
her, Barry, and she knew it. Loved her in the right way, in the way a
man should love the woman he's going to marry; and my love meant so
little to her that she chucked it away without even telling me she was
tired of it."
"But to marry, out of revenge, as it were, is small too."
"Out of revenge? Come, Barry, what are you thinking of?" Owen rose
and spoke with an eerie joviality. "There'll be no revenge about it!
Mayn't I marry and settle down like another man? I'll guarantee that the

first woman who wants me can have me; and if she plays the game she
shan't regret it, for I'll play it too!"
"But where will you look for her?" Barry could not understand this
attitude of mind.
"Look for her? Oh, I'll look for her all right--and she'll turn up, never
fear!" He moved restlessly. "There's always some woman ready to enter
a man's life when he throws the door ajar--and here I'm positively
flinging it open, inviting the little dears to come in!"
"But, I say, Owen"--Barry looked anxiously at his friend--"you ... you'll
be careful, won't you? I mean, you won't let any twopenny-halfpenny
little chorus-girl, or ... or girl out of a shop come in, will you? You see,
if you let them all know...."
"Chorus-girls are sometimes worth a good deal more than
twopence-halfpenny," Owen reminded him quietly, "and I daresay a
girl out of a shop would make a jolly decent wife. But I wasn't
contemplating them when I spoke."
"Of course not," assented Barry hastily. "I only meant----"
"You only meant to give me good advice," said Owen, more kindly
than he had yet spoken. "All right, old man, I understand. You must
forgive me if I'm cross-grained to-night. You see I've