‘You don’t quite understand,’ said poor Mrs Lace. ‘They are delightful really, only today they seem different. If you talked to them alone you wouldn’t think them at all stupid.’
‘My dear, they must be stupid if they have joined the Social Unionist party.’
‘Oh! I think that’s all a joke.’
‘Social Unionism is no joke. It is a menace to the life’s work of those who, like myself, love peace and wish all men equal. Surely, Anne-Marie, you cannot in two short weeks have forgotten all our wonderful ideals?’
‘Oh! no,’ said Anne-Marie, ‘it’s not that. But it is always interesting to meet new people, don’t you think so, to try and get a view of life from their angle? And Noel Foster is, in many ways, very exceptional. The others are nice, but he is something different from what I have ever known. I can’t explain why, you must meet him again, more quietly and see for yourself.’
‘No thank you,’ said Mr Leader, ‘I have seen enough of him this afternoon.’
‘I wondered,’ Mrs Lace went on, ‘whether all of you at Rackenbridge would help us with the pageant? We want various groups of people to undertake the different episodes, nothing is quite settled yet though.’
Mr Leader said he would think it over. ‘I must say good-bye now, you wonderful creature. Don’t forget that you are the greatest inspiration any man could have, and never waste your friendship on somebody who may be unworthy of such a gift.’
Mrs Lace could have kicked him for not making this pretty compliment in the hearing of Noel. She felt it to be utterly wasted among the dank laurels at the bottom of the garden.
When she got back to the house she found that all her guests had departed, with the exception of Mr Wilkins and his still admiring claque.
‘Here’s Anne-Marie,’ said Noel, affectionately. ‘Come over here and talk to us for a bit. You’ve been a hostess for long enough.’
‘Oh! yes,’ cried Poppy, making room for her on the sofa. ‘We want you, we want to tell you all the things we’ve been fixing up for the pageant.’
‘Ah! the pageant,’ Mrs Lace felt happier. What mattered it that her cocktail party had not been all she had hoped when she still had the pageant glowing on her horizon? She reminded herself that she and Noel were to play the parts of Queen Charlotte and George III. Together they would drive through cheering crowds, bowing to right and to left of them, a cynosure for all eyes, in the beautiful and historic coach that Lady Chalford was lending on that occasion.
This picture was constantly in Anne-Marie’s mind; she thought about it nearly the whole time. How sweet and pretty she would look in her charming head-dress, how handsome the appearance of Noel in wig and uniform; how evident to all observers their great love for each other. In after days those who had seen them would be saying, ‘What a pity we didn’t know then who he really was. I suppose we might have guessed from the grace and ease with which he acknowledged the cheers. Of course, they were deeply in love, nobody could have failed to realize that. How romantic it all is!’
Perhaps their photograph would appear in the newspapers, a photograph in which Noel would be gazing at her, a whole wealth of love in his eyes. There was no end to the intoxicating vista of possibilities which stretched out before Anne-Marie when she began to think about the pageant.
What was Poppy saying now? ‘Yes, it was Marge’s idea. She is clever to have thought of it, and it’s all quite settled. Mr Wilkins is going to be George III! He has promised he will at last, but we had to go down on our hands and knees to persuade him, didn’t we, Mr Wilkins? And that will make the pageant a most wonderful success because no two people have ever looked so much alike as Mr Wilkins and George III; had you noticed it? Now you know we shall have to be getting back to Chalford because it’s fearfully late and our dinner will be ready. We have loved the party, specially meeting Mr Wilkins. Thank you so much for it, and for introducing us to Mr Wilkins, it was heavenly of you. Good-bye Mr Wilkins, see you tomorrow then, at about one.’
Major Lace could not understand why his wife cried herself to sleep that night. He supposed that she must be in the family way again.
10
Next day at the usual hour Noel pushed his way, hooting from time to time, through the undergrowth which surrounded his trysting-place. As he heard no answering cry, he presumed that Anne-Marie had been unable to come. He found her lying, however, a little crumpled heap of despondency, on the steps of the temple, and very soon she was sobbing her heart out on Noel’s shoulder.
‘Darling, I really can’t see that it matters as much as all that,’ he said, when at last he had realized the reason for all this misery. ‘Of course it would have been fun to do it together, and it is sweet of you to mind, but you know, Lady Marjorie is quite right, Mr Wilkins is the living double of George III. Rather clever of her to notice I thought.’
‘Oh! you don’t understand,’ sobbed Mrs Lace. ‘I’m not so stupid as to make all this fuss over an old pageant, although I had been looking forward to acting with you quite particularly.’
‘Then what is it, my darling?’ said Noel, who was getting rather bored with this scene.
‘I’m so dreadfully, dreadfully unhappy.’
‘Darling, why?’
‘You’re so unkind to me. I feel I can’t bear it any longer.’
‘Unkind?’
‘All the secrecy.’
‘What
