The Paradise Mystery | Page 3

you," she said.
"You're quite right about people not repressing their inclinations. I--I
wish some people would!"
Ransford turned quickly from the hearth and gave her a sharp look,
beneath which her colour heightened. Her eyes shifted their gaze away
to her letter, and she picked it up and began to fold it nervously. And at
that Ransford rapped out a name, putting a quick suggestion of
meaning inquiry into his voice.
"Bryce?" he asked.
The girl nodded her face showing distinct annoyance and dislike.
Before saying more, Ransford lighted a cigarette.
"Been at it again?" he said at last. "Since-last time?"
"Twice," she answered. "I didn't like to tell you--I've hated to bother
you about it. But--what am I to do? I dislike him intensely--I can't tell
why, but it's there, and nothing could ever alter the feeling. And though
I told him--before--that it was useless--he mentioned it
again--yesterday--at Mrs. Folliot's garden-party."
"Confound his impudence!" growled Ransford. "Oh, well!--I'll have to
settle with him myself. It's useless trifling with anything like that. I
gave him a quiet hint before. And since he won't take it--all right!"
"But--what shall you do?" she asked anxiously. "Not--send him away?"
"If he's any decency about him, he'll go--after what I say to him,"
answered Ransford. "Don't you trouble yourself about it--I'm not at all
keen about him. He's a clever enough fellow, and a good assistant, but I
don't like him, personally--never did."
"I don't want to think that anything that I say should lose him his
situation--or whatever you call it," she remarked slowly. "That would
seem--"

"No need to bother," interrupted Ransford. "He'll get another in two
minutes--so to speak. Anyway, we can't have this going on. The fellow
must be an ass! When I was young--"
He stopped short at that, and turning away, looked out across the
garden as if some recollection had suddenly struck him.
"When you were young--which is, of course, such an awfully long time
since!" said the girl, a little teasingly. "What?"
"Only that if a woman said No--unmistakably--once, a man took it as
final," replied Ransford. "At least--so I was always given to believe.
Nowadays--"
"You forget that Mr. Pemberton Bryce is what most people would call
a very pushing young man," said Mary. "If he doesn't get what he wants
in this world, it won't be for not asking for it. But--if you must speak to
him--and I really think you must!--will you tell him that he is not going
to get--me? Perhaps he'll take it finally from you--as my guardian."
"I don't know if parents and guardians count for much in these
degenerate days," said Ransford. "But--I won't have him annoying you.
And--I suppose it has come to annoyance?"
"It's very annoying to be asked three times by a man whom you've told
flatly, once for all, that you don't want him, at any time, ever!" she
answered. "It's--irritating!"
"All right," said Ransford quietly. "I'll speak to him. There's going to be
no annoyance for you under this roof."
The girl gave him a quick glance, and Ransford turned away from her
and picked up his letters.
"Thank you," she said. "But--there's no need to tell me that, because I
know it already. Now I wonder if you'll tell me something more?"
Ransford turned back with a sudden apprehension.

"Well?" he asked brusquely. "What?"
"When are you going to tell me all about--Dick and myself?" she asked.
"You promised that you would, you know, some day. And--a whole
year's gone by since then. And--Dick's seventeen! He won't be satisfied
always--just to know no more than that our father and mother died
when we were very little, and that you've been guardian--and all that
you have been!--to us. Will he, now?"
Ransford laid down his letters again, and thrusting his hands in his
pockets, squared his shoulders against the mantelpiece. "Don't you
think you might wait until you're twenty-one?" he asked.
"Why?" she said, with a laugh. "I'm just twenty--do you really think I
shall be any wiser in twelve months? Of course I shan't!"
"You don't know that," he replied. "You may be--a great deal wiser."
"But what has that got to do with it?" she persisted. "Is there any reason
why I shouldn't be told--everything?"
She was looking at him with a certain amount of demand--and
Ransford, who had always known that some moment of this sort must
inevitably come, felt that she was not going to be put off with ordinary
excuses. He hesitated--and she went on speaking.
"You know," she continued, almost pleadingly. "We don't know
anything--at all. I never have known, and until lately Dick has been too
young to care--"
"Has he begun asking questions?" demanded Ransford hastily.
"Once or twice, lately--yes," replied Mary. "It's only natural." She
laughed