The Safety Curtain | Page 8

absorbed to pay any attention to her. And often
as those daring red lips mocked him, they were never offered to his
even in jest. Yet was she so finished a coquette that the omission was
never obvious. It seemed the most natural thing in the world that she
should evade all approach to intimacy. They were comrades--just
comrades.
Everyone in the station wanted to know Merryon's bride. People had
begun by being distant, but that phase was long past. Puck Merryon had
stormed the citadel within a fortnight of her arrival, no one quite knew
how. Everyone knew her now. She went everywhere, though never
without her husband, who found himself dragged into gaieties for
which he had scant liking, and sought after by people who had never
seemed aware of him before. She had, in short, become the rage, and so
gaily did she revel in her triumph that he could not bring himself to
deny her the fruits thereof.
On that particular morning in March he had gone to an early parade
without seeing her, for there had been a regimental ball the night before,
and she had danced every dance. Dancing seemed her one passion, and
to Merryon, who did not dance, the ball had been an unmitigated
weariness. He had at last, in sheer boredom, joined a party of
bridge-players, with the result that he had not seen much of his young
wife throughout the evening.
Returning from the parade-ground, he wondered if he would find her
up, and then caught sight of her waving away the marauders in scanty
attire on the veranda.
He called a greeting to her, and she instantly vanished into her room.
He made his way to the table set in the shade of the cluster-roses, and
sat down to await her.
She remained invisible, but her voice at once accosted him.
"Good-morning, Billikins! Tell the khit you're ready! I shall be out in
two shakes."

None but she would have dreamed of bestowing so frivolous an
appellation upon the sober Merryon. But from her it came so naturally
that Merryon scarcely noticed it. He had been "Billikins" to her
throughout the brief three months that had elapsed since their marriage.
Of course, Mrs. Paget disapproved, but then Mrs. Paget was Mrs. Paget.
She disapproved of everything young and gay.
Merryon gave the required order, and then sat in stolid patience to
await his wife's coming. She did not keep him long. Very soon she
came lightly out and joined him, an impudent smile on her sallow little
face, dancing merriment in her eyes.
"Oh, poor old Billikins!" she said, commiseratingly. "You were bored
last night, weren't you? I wonder if I could teach you to dance."
"I wonder," said Merryon.
His eyes dwelt upon her in her fresh white muslin. What a child she
looked! Not pretty--no, not pretty; but what a magic smile she had!
She sat down at the table facing him, and leaned her elbows upon it. "I
wonder if I could!" she said again, and then broke into her sudden
laugh.
"What's the joke?" asked Merryon.
"Oh, nothing!" she said, recovering herself. "It suddenly came over me,
that's all--poor old Mother Paget's face, supposing she had seen me last
night."
"Didn't she see you last night? I thought you were more or less in the
public eye," said Merryon.
"Oh, I meant after the dance," she explained. "I felt sort of wound up
and excited after I got back. And I wanted to see if I could still do it.
I'm glad to say I can," she ended, with another little laugh.
Her dark eyes shot him a tentative glance. "Can what?" asked Merryon.

"You'll be shocked if I tell you."
"What was it?" he said.
There was insistence in his tone--the insistence by which he had once
compelled her to live against her will. Her eyelids fluttered a little as it
reached her, but she cocked her small, pointed chin notwithstanding.
"Why should I tell you if I don't want to?" she demanded.
"Why shouldn't you want to?" he said.
The tip of her tongue shot out and in again. "Well, you never took me
for a lady, did you?" she said, half-defiantly.
"What was it?" repeated Merryon, sticking to the point.
Again she grimaced at him, but she answered, "Oh, I only--after I'd had
my bath--lay on the floor and ran round my head for a bit. It's not a bit
difficult, once you've got the knack. But I got thinking of Mrs.
Paget--she does amuse me, that woman. Only yesterday she asked me
what Puck was short for, and I told her Elizabeth--and then I got
laughing so that I had to stop."
Her face was flushed, and she was slightly breathless as she