The Disturbing Charm

by Berta Ruck

  CHAPTER V

  THE BEST GIRL-FRIEND

  "She was Sweet of Heart."

  Epitaph on the Tomb of an Egyptian Princess, 700 b.c.

  Olwen, with Golden's furs, hurried through the billiard-room to theouter hall with the "Enquiries" counter, the long bar, and the rows ofrefreshment-tables crowded by soldiers and sailors.

  One table was empty, reserved for Mr. Awdas's party, but the youngflying officer had been called away on duty just after his _fiancee's_second song. Olwen was sorry for him, but his loss was her chance; andshe saw so little of this friend of hers.

  As she handed over the great leopard-skin muff, she said, ratherappealingly, "Are you staying, Golden?"

  "Why, aren't you?" Golden said, glancing towards the group who wereordering coffee. "It's quite early."

  "Yes; and I felt like a walk," said the other girl, wistfully, "and Ithought if we got out of this crush I might see you to speak to----"

  Golden laughed. "Very well," she agreed. "I'll come with you; wait whileI shake hands with Mrs. Cartwright...."

  The two young girls bade a quick good night to the party, and before itwas quite realized that they were leaving, they had passed through thehall, descended the wooden staircase, and reached the entrance to theStrand.

  It was a clear and sparkling night above the murky lamp-glasses, with atouch of frost. Away to the west the spoke of a single searchlight couldbe seen creeping this way and that like a snail's horn.

  The tall girl and the little one turned to take the quieter streets inthe direction of Baker Street, Olwen's terminus.

  Already they had walked many a mile together, those oddly contrastedgirl-friends, during that growth of this quick, firm friendship. Severaltimes the Welsh girl had been invited to the big house near GrosvenorGardens, which was Golden's home; the little house at Wembley Park hadin its turn welcomed the American. There had been appointments formatinees together, and for lunch. Olwen, in fact, would have wished toclaim the Sunburst girl whenever Jack Awdas was out of town, bound forFrance with a new machine. Taking aeroplanes across the Channel was nowhis job. Little Olwen had been the first of her girl friends to whomGolden had confided the pact on Biscay Beach that had made of herBird-boy the happiest man flying.

  But as Golden was not of the type that lets any Third (however dear)into details that concern a happy two, Olwen had never heard of the partplayed in that scene by a trifle of pink ribbon and satin in which herown hand had bestowed a Charm....

  If she had known of it, it might have been better for her. It might havestartled her out of the lines that her own life was taking; humdrumlines, she knew--she scarcely realized that they were also growingtowards the lines of disillusionment, even of cynicism. Being gloriouslyin love was a thing for the few, she thought. Certainly a bright fixedstar seemed to shine over this girl by her side and over the Jack sheappeared to adore. But what gleam of it touched the life of Olwen? Shehad now reached twenty, and the phase when a girl believes herself tohave outgrown everything she ever used to feel. Certainly she hadgained, by that casting off of some of her feverish emotionalism andcredulities, but was there nothing this young girl was in danger oflosing?

  It was as they were turning into Cranbourne Street that Golden vanHuysen, who had been swinging along without speaking, did startle her bya sudden remark:

  "Olwen! I didn't know you could be so cruel."

  Quickly Olwen's little head went up. "Cruel, Golden? What can you mean?"

  "I mean just plain cruel. What made you say good night in the way yousaid it, as if you didn't care if it were good night, or good-bye, orgood riddance?"

  "'Good night' to whom? I spoke to Mrs. Cartwright; she was the one whomattered," Olwen said a little defensively. "All those other people fromthe Honeycomb----well, I wanted to get away with you, and I see _them_every day."

  "And are '_they_' all the same to you?"

  "Of course," said Olwen in a resigned voice, "you _mean_ Captain Ross."

  "Certainly I didn't mean your little Major Leefe, who talks as if ithurt him, not your young sailor-boy, who loves to laugh."

  "Well, I see Captain Ross every day, and I expect he thinks that's fartoo much."

  Golden's reply was a soft laugh. "Oh, you British, you are the funniestthings! Either you want to grab a thing before you take another breath,or else you wait staring at it until you can't see it!----Why, Olwen,that man's crazy about you."

  "Not he!" returned Olwen, decidedly, and with another sort of laugh--aslightly bitter one.

  For she had just remembered that this was the second time some one hadthought this thing. She heard again the mercilessly shrewd voice of thatFrench manageress at Les Pins.

  "_Monsieur le Capitaine, he with the one arm, who admiresMademoiselle._"

  She, Olwen, had actually been silly enough to believe it, then. Shedidn't believe it now; how could she? Did she have any reason? ThoseFridays were the only time she saw him to speak to, and even those, ashe'd practically pointed out to her, were the purest accident.

  The rest of the time--she laughed again.

  "My _dear_ Golden, if you could _only_ see him at the Honeycomb!"

  And there seemed to resound in her mind echoes of Captain Ross's voiceat the Honeycomb--or were they echoes of Mrs. Newton's mimicries ofCaptain Ross?

  "Hullo--yes?" curtly down the telephone in his office where Olwen hadcome for instructions. "Yes; Miss Howel-Jones _is_ working on theHoneycomb. You will find her number in room 0369----" Then, in an irontone to Olwen, "Miss Howel-Jones, I should be glad if you would giveyour _correct_ telephone number to any friends whom you wish to ring youup...."

  And so on. Was that the manner of a man who cares?

  More echoes were broken in upon by the gentler voice of Golden.

  "I don't need to see him at any Honeycomb. I saw it in one, at the EagleHut. If he's different in the office, why, that's his fine sense ofduty, and you ought to like him for that.... Jack thinks a deal ofCaptain Ross. So does Mrs. Cartwright, and she's a real, intelligentwoman. Why, do you know, just before Captain Ross came on to the meetingtonight, your little friend Mrs. Newton said something about him; Ithink she likes to make fun of him a little. Mrs. Cartwright said, quitequietly, '_I have a great affection for Captain Ross!_'

  "I guess she wouldn't have said that without some reason for liking him.Jack thinks he's fine," young Awdas's sweetheart concluded her plea forthe absent. "Don't you like him, Olwen?"

  There was a silence as the two girls walked up Tottenham Court Road,comparatively empty at this time of the evening.

  Then Olwen drew a quick little breath, turned up her face to herfriend's, and let out an emphatic "I did like him." Then in a soft hurryof words, "I liked him all that time in France. Yes. Awfully! I thoughtof him and thought of him, Golden. It seemed to make everything ...beautiful to me." Then a little ashamed laugh, "I was----silly, then!"

  "Silly?" repeated her friend gently. "That's not the way it seems tome. That's a lovely thing in a girl's life." She lifted her chin overthe leopard-skin stole and looked ahead to the stars above the murkylamps, to the skies in which lay her own lover's pathless way. "Makeeverything beautiful; that's what love should do. I _know_," saidGolden, shyly, but proudly. "I didn't know for certain, until Jackshowed me. I'm so pleased you know too...."

  "Oh, but--that's not new," Olwen protested quickly. "That's over."

  "Over? Then--if you don't mind telling me, what do you feel aboutCaptain Ross now? What does he mean in your life?"

  Little Olwen had asked herself this very same question until she'd givenit up, and now she scarcely knew whether to laugh or to shrug hershoulders.

  "I'll tell you," she said lightly, after a moment, "exactly how I feelabout Captain Ross. I would have told you before, if you'd asked me. Tostart with, I work all day at the Honeycomb, where there are hundreds ofother girls, and men. Some of these people amuse me, and some don't,so----"

  "But----'_amuse_'----" repeated Golden, blankly. "
Does that stand foranything big?"

  The soft Welsh voice of the other girl retorted, "It does, when you areworking, and--and there isn't anything else. Isn't it natural that onelikes the amusing people best? Mrs. Newton is amusing. Major Leefedoesn't mean to be, but he is. Mr. Ellerton is nice to go aboutwith----"

  Again Golden broke in gently. "Olwen! I don't like to hear you talk thatway."

  "Why not? Les Pins is over. And when a thing's over," pronounced thissage of twenty, "sensible people don't waste any more time on it."

  "When you say that, it seems to me to be belittling a very----" Goldenmade the characteristic American pause after the adverb--"beautifulthing."

  "It's different for you who have one man meaning the whole world to you.As I haven't. Well, I want to be amused, Golden."

  More gently still Golden repeated, "I don't like to hear you talk thatway, Olwen. Don't you feel any more that Captain Ross is different fromthe others?"

  "I feel he's less amusing," declared the girl, walking beside her.

  "And how," asked Golden, "does that young Mr. Ellerton 'amuse' you,then?"

  "Well, he gives me a good time. I like being with him. He rattles awayall the time. _He_ doesn't snap my head off----"

  For half a minute there was silence as they walked along. Then Goldenstopped by one of those dimly-gleaming lamps and peered down into herfriend's small, mutinous face; her voice dropped a whole note as shesaid slowly:

  "Olwen! You wouldn't do such a thing as play Mr. Ellerton off againstCaptain Ross to make Captain Ross jealous?"

  "Oh, no," Olwen said quite honestly; forgetting something as entirely asa change of mood can cause one to forget. She had mischievously enough,allowed Captain Ross to go on thinking that the young R.N.A.S. officerhad held her hand.... She didn't even care enough to remember it....

  But at her answer the American girl heaved quite a sigh of relief."Forgive me," she begged. "Forget I said that. I ought to have known itwasn't like you."

  And here Olwen really felt herself humbled by the standards of thestraight young goddess at her side. For the first time the younger, lesswomanly but more feminine and complex girl suffered a pang of remorse onaccount of a certain little Mr. Brown. Him she had certainly made use ofat Les Pins to annoy Captain Ross. The blackberry time was notintentional; but that time on the terrace? Would Golden ever have talkedto a young man "at" another young man? It would be better, she knew, ifevery girl could think and act like Golden ... it would be better....But to every girl her problems.

  Golden went on, "You've done it without wanting to, then. He was scaredtonight that Mr. Ellerton would sit by you. You aren't out to make himjealous, but have you wondered if he thinks that's what you're doing?I've told you that he watched every look of yours!"

  "But I don't believe it," persisted Olwen, feeling somehow moredisturbed, less contented with life as it was then she had been thatday. "Why should I?" and into her voice there crept another note.

  It was a note of unspoken irritation, exasperation, and appeal. In howmany soft girl voices does it not sound, telling of budding emotionsnipped by the frost of silence--of hopes that had grown tired of raisingtheir heads--of womanly impulse turned back upon itself--of influencesthat might have made the sunshine of two lives, but that dies offorbiddance because some man has shown himself so near tospeaking----and has not spoken!

  "He cares," said Golden with the conviction of some young great-eyedoracle.

  A passer-by separated the two girls for the moment. As they cametogether again Olwen retorted, "Then why can't he say so? Men do, whenthey like a girl well enough. Your Jack did, in a minute."

  Golden gave a happy little laugh. "But, as I say most every day, youBritish are so queer! You're so different! Some of your men want topropose before they even say 'Pleased to meet you.' Others seem to havethis habit of waiting and waiting until some cows of their own comehome, I guess."

  "It's the second sort that I don't understand," sighed the Welsh girl."If a man is fond of a girl, why doesn't he want to say so at once?"

  Golden shook her head. "Now that is something that I can't tell you."

  Presently Olwen said, as if getting rid of something that had been alittle on her mind, "I read in a book of essays about engagements andthings, that Mrs. Newton lent me, that '_a Proposal was one-half theEngineering of Some Girl, and one-half the False Pretences of SomeMan_' ... but I hope that's not quite true...."

  "It is not true," said the American girl serenely. "It's ugly."

  With this profoundly simple remark, uttered as if it were some creed,she turned with Olwen down Warren Street; and they were half-way toBaker Street station before either of them spoke again.

  Then said the Sunburst Girl, "I wouldn't have missed this walk. I thinkyou needed to talk to somebody who knows Love's lovely."

  "Somebody who seems to upset things I thought were _settled_," grumbledOlwen, affectionately.

  "That's why I'm glad I came with you. I just hate to see you in a hurryto settle all the wrong things!"

  Olwen persisted. "For the umpteenth time, as Mr. Ellerton would say,that man doesn't care two-pence about me, Golden."

  "Just because he hasn't proposed?" smiled Golden as she took the lastword. "But he will. Watch out for it. Good night, dear."

  The heavy furs lifted to her gesture as she turned, then swung awayunder the stars towards the South.