Evening star., 1935-12-15

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sea whispering at their feet. You might
like to have little fun with a man on
cruise; you didn't want to have to
nurse him. Nigel was forty-three.
Twenty years older than she was. In
another twenty years She shivcred.
She stood staring at herself in the
mirror in her bedroom. She hardly re-
membered the rash promises she had
made, to get away from him. Could
this white-faced young person staring
back at her really be Sandra? The
gales of emotion that had buffeted her
had left her white and shaking.
The clock on her mantelshelf struck
one. One in the morning, and at any
moment anything might happen. Nigel
was no boy, easily handled. He was a
determined man. What fool she had
been. What an utter fool. But if once
she could get out of this mess
She threw coat over her thin frock,
and hastily picked up her suitcase.
When he kissed her, she had no strength
left, no will of her own. But when he
wasn't there. common sense started
working. She thought, with sick long
ing, Of Berkeley. OF her trousseau at
home in the bottom drawer. OF the
Japanese cherry in the garden of that
dear little house.
And she thought of the long dark
evenings and the rains, and the voice
of the frogs calling incessantly in the
rice fields, as Nigel had told her they
called. and the singing of the cicadas
in the jungle, from which there was
never moments peace. She thought
of the lonely bungalow perched on a
desolate hill top, and of Nigel, who
had been young man before ever she
was born, who would be an old man
such long time before she was an old
woman.
She took to her heels. Down the
back stairs of the French hotel, Sandra
ran cunningly, and saw. going up the
front stairs, Nigel, with his head held
high as if he owned not only the ship
and the South coast of France, but
everything else besides.
They were little surprised to see
her at the ship in the early hours of
morning. The purser was surprised
when she announced after breakfast
that she was leaving Immediately and
returning home overland. A little sur
prised, but not much. Seafaring men
take things as they find them and ask
few awkward questions.
Going overland in the Express, San
dra cried good bit. 1t was all SO
dreadful. She was going back to Berke-
ley as quickly as ever she could, be-
cause she wanted Berkeley, and knew
she wanted Berkeley. But never again
would she hear the voice of the sea
whispering on the shore or the sound
of wind in palm trees without remem-
bering Nigel, and his arms about her
like iron, and his passionate kisses.
And what of Nigel? She saw him,
haggard and wild-eyed. pacing the
ship when he found her gone. Perhaps
he would find some means of writing to
her, of communicating with her. Or he
might just send her volume of poems,
one passage marked - Sweet, you
have trod on heart -"
Berkeley met her at the station. sur
prised and touched. Darling, did you
really miss me so much?"
She clung to him. II got in panic,
Berkeley. l felt if l didn't come back
at once, l might never come back. Oh
Berkeley, hold me fast, and keep me
safe, and spank me if | strayr'
His arms closed about her. He
thanked whatever gods there be. and
asked no further questions, his eyes
quiet. Against his heart she thought:
Never again.