of fairyland has gone, and now the edges are frayed. What do you mean?”
She finished her drink. “I’m trying so hard to be kind,” she said. “Can’t you see that? Things don’t mean the same to me any more—there, I’ve told you.”
Still he couldn’t grasp what she meant. He signalled to Mandell to fill the glasses. Mandell gave an elaborate start, as if he had just noticed them, and brought the shaker over. “You like these, sir?” he said agreeably.
“Yes, they are very good,” the big man said, smiling vaguely, “very good indeed.”
Mandell pushed the glasses a few inches towards them and then stood away, taking up his old position.
“What was it you were saying?” the big man asked, taking up the thread of the conversation. “Are you bored with travelling? Do you want to settle down?”
She said, “Yes.”
“But where? Here?”
She shook her head. “No. It wouldn’t be here.”
There was a long pause, then he said: “I love you so much that I will go wherever you wish. Tell me, and we will make plans.”
She faced him. “Can’t you understand”—there was an edge on her voice—“I can’t bear any more of this? I’ve tried and tried to tell you, but you won’t understand. I can’t go on with this any longer.”
“Don’t get angry. I understand that. I am quite willing to do what you want. Really, you can please yourself.”
She said very intensely, “We must part.”
He slopped his drink on the mahogany top of the bar. “We must part?” he repeated. “You mean you don’t want me any more?”
“I tried so hard to tell you nicely, but you are so sure of yourself. You have always been so sure of yourself.”
“No, you have mistaken me if you think that. I have never been sure of myself, but I’ve been sure of you. It isn’t the same thing. I thought your love for me was as enduring as mine for you. You mustn’t say I was sure of myself. I trusted your love. I had to have something I need not doubt. Don’t you understand! With all this horrible chaos in the world, with lies and envy and sordid business, I hung on to the one thing I thought would never forsake me.”
She said, “I’m very sorry.”
“Of course”—he passed his fingers through his hair—“I know you are. When did it happen? Recently?”
She said: “Now I’ve told you I don’t want to talk about it any more.”
“You can’t leave it like that. I’m crazy about you. You know I’m crazy about you. Have I done anything that decided you?”
She shook her head. “I’m bad,” she said softly; “I thought I could find the happiness I wanted with you, but I haven’t. I must live my life. I have not the courage to pretend. You wouldn’t want me to pretend, would you?”
“Why do you say you’re bad? Is it because there is someone else?”
She hesitated a moment, then she said: “Yes, yes. I didn’t want to tell you, but I must. You are bound to hear sooner or later.”
With the morbid interest of a lounger at a street accident, Mandell watched the big man dispassionately. He noticed that he had suddenly gone very pale and it was only with difficulty that he controlled himself.
“I see,” he said.
“No,” she said quickly, “you don’t. You couldn’t possibly. You are thinking that I have wounded your pride. I know how men feel when this happens. But it won’t wound your pride. I’m so glad about that because you have been so very sweet to me. You have, and I have appreciated—”
“Please,” he said, “don’t talk like that. You are making my love sound like a donation to a hospital. It wasn’t like that. I gave you everything, and I suppose it just wasn’t enough.”
Mandell saw her flinch and he raised his eyebrows approvingly. He thought this big guy was taking it lying down. What this dame wanted was fireworks. He sniffed contemptuously. All this talk about fairyland and frayed edges—it was just so much crap.
“I’m going away with Margaret Whitely,” she said quietly.
The big man’s colour came back, making his face congested. “Who?” he said, staring at her.
“Yes. Oh, I know what you are going to say, but I’ve thought and thought and thought. I must please myself.”
He seemed now to be quite controlled again. When he spoke, it was in an irritatingly soothing voice that one might use to a child. “My dear, surely you have got over that nonsense now?”
She shook her head. “Please don’t try and be understanding,” she said. “I know how you feel about it, but I’ve really made up my mind once and for all.”
He lit a cigarette, holding the heavy gold case thoughtfully in his hand. “Does Margaret know about us? Does she know what she is doing to us?”
“She has waited for me. She knew that this would come to nothing. She told me a year ago. She waited and, you see, she was right.”
“Are you being perverted? Isn’t it rather a beastly thing to do?”
“I suppose I must expect to hear that sort of thing, but it will not stop me. Margaret and I can’t be parted any longer.”
“I think I would rather it had been a man.”
She shook her head. “No, you are wrong. You would not have taken it as you are taking it now. You wouldn’t have been patient. You would have got into a terrible rage and you would have wanted to kill him.”
He made a little grimace. “I suppose I should,” he admitted. “This is so out of my hands. I feel there is something so repugnant about it that I don’t want to have anything to do with it.”
She reached out and gathered up her bag. “Good-bye, Harry,” she said; “thank you for everything.”
“Don’t go,” he said quickly. “You can’t leave it like this. For God’s sake, think what you are doing.”
She slid off the stool. “There is really nothing more to be done; it is all settled. I just didn’t want to hurt you. I’m so sorry.”
He said very bitterly: “Then last year doesn’t mean anything? It is just so much dust… nothing.”
She bit her lip, then put her hand on his arm. “You see why I ought to go quickly? We shall be saying cruel things in a moment and we shall be sorry. Good-bye, Harry,” and she went out of the bar quickly, moving lightly and gracefully.
Mandell watched her go regretfully. The conversation had amused him. As she passed through the door, a girl came in and stood looking round the bar. Mandell’s lips tightened. He recognized the type immediately. That was one thing he wouldn’t stand for in his bar. He said to the big man, “You’ll excuse me if I come through the barrier, sir, there’s a dame blown in who looks very doubtful. I’m just goin’ to tell her to beat it.”
The big man looked over his shoulder at the girl. He got off the stool. “Doubtful, did you say?” he said. “Why, you big stiff, she’s a goddam certainty,” and he walked across to the girl who met him with a professional smile and they went away together.
THE PAINTED ANGEL
Slug Moynihan eased his weight against the lamp-post and thrust his hands into his trouser pockets. The hard light from the lamp threw his face into dark shadows, hiding his eyes and lighting his square jaw. He was wearing a light sport’s coat over a white polo sweater, and his shabby flannel trousers were noticeably frayed at the turn- ups.
People who passed, glanced at him curiously, and then, as he turned his head, they looked away hurriedly. Slug was a tough bird and he didn’t like people looking at him. He belonged to a team of third-rate boxers who fought at Henklestien’s saloon twice a week. He made a little money and took a lot of punishment. He was still under twenty-five, so he found that the punishment didn’t affect him. All the same, it sometimes worried him when he watched the older fighters gradually going slug nutty. He could see that happening to him before long.
Right now he wasn’t worrying about that. He had other things to worry him. He had got Rose Hanson on his
