Beggars May Sing

by Sara Seale

  "Wouldn't you call the New Year an occasion?" asked Mark pleasantly, rising to his feet.

  "Don't you think it was a little odd to go off as you did, Gina dear?" she said softly, ignoring Mark and fixing her dark eyes on her stepdaughter. "Evan was looking for you everywhere, and it was rather rude to the Pratts."

  "They wouldn't notice," mumbled Gina uncomfortably.

  Julie lifted one shoulder delicately. "If you were tired, my dear, you should have gone straight to bed. You shouldn't have kept Mark up like this. But I'm sure you never thought about it, did you?"

  She became aware of her brother's steady gaze, and turned to the others, who had come in with her. "We needn't have bothered," she said. "Gina could evidently take good care of herself."

  "What a perfectly lovely idea!" said Philippa gaily. "Was it yours, Mark? Of course they had to see the New Year in the proper style. Incidentally, a happy New Year to you both," she smiled at Mark and Gina, who returned her greeting with relief.

  Gina was conscious of Victor's steady gaze, and presently he said with a slow smile:

  "You little dark horse, Gina! I always suspected it."

  No one, fortunately, asked him what he meant, and Gina pretended not to hear. Sebastian, who was already eating up the remains of a trifle, said indignantly:

  "If you'd told me you and the Judge were going to fling a party, I wouldn't have gone back to that monkey-house. Of all silly pastimes, dancing takes the prize! It was a godawful show!"

  "Gina, run along to bed now," Julie said. "Mark, you look tired. You ought to have gone to bed long ago. Victor, will you get yourself and Elliot a whisky and soda?— Phil—some lemonade? No? Well then, I think bed for us all."

  Having deftly dealt with her entire household, Julie gave a last glance round Mark's rather debauched-looking study, and, with suddenly compressed lips, led the way out of the room.

  CHAPTER X

  I

  DURING the next few days, Julie kept careful watch of all Gina's actions. She had been much disturbed by what she had witnessed on New Year's Night. She had always known that Mark was more than ordinarily interested in the girl, although she had never let herself think how deep his interest might really go. She wanted to get Gina married, but not to Mark. She was fond of her brother, and her possessive instinct reached out to him as it had to Gina's father. The child had unconsciously stood between Denis and herself. She would never consciously stand between herself and Mark. In Victor's case she still determined to be blind. It was necessary to save her own pride.

  She would never show Victor that she was jealous of her own stepdaughter, and, so long as no one else knew it cither, she cared little what Gina might suffer.

  Julie encouraged Evan to come to the house as often as he liked. She never made the mistake of asking Gina how the affair was progressing, but she gave Evan every opportunity, knowing well that Gina would not appeal to all men.

  Gina allowed herself to be monopolized by Evan, chiefly to escape the renewed attentions of Swann, who, since New Year's Night, had frankly returned to the attack. He pestered her whenever Mark was out of sight, and made her life unbearable in countless little subtle ways. There was a great deal that was sadistic in Victor, and where his own interest was aroused without reciprocation, his attentions had a vein of cruelty in them. He was both irritated and attracted by Gina's fear of him. He was finding Julie's guests as boring as they found him, and he considered Gina a little devil who knew more than she pretended, who was quite ready to accommodate Mark when she wouldn't accommodate him. Victor was always insensitive. It was the cause of half his vulgarity.

  On January the 4th, the date of the charity ball, the thaw started.

  "It would, of course," said .Sebastian, coming in at tea-time from giving the Southern Belle road exercise. "The roads will be like glass tonight. We shall have a jolly drive to Eastcliff."

  "And you won't be at the wheel," said Mark, who was just leaving the room. "You and Gina are the worst drivers I know."

  "All right, we don't mind," said Sebastian good-temperedly, and flung himself into a chair with the latest detective story.

  Philippa wandered in and out, collecting her belongings. She and her husband were leaving tomorrow; Victor was going in two days time.

  "I wish you weren't going," said Gina despondently. She found Philippa's presence in the house a distinct relief.

  "So do I, my sweet. But we can't stop for ever, unfortunately," she replied. "How many dances are you giving your beau tonight, Gina?"

  "D'you mean Evan?" said Gina with a smile. "I said I'd tell him when I got there."

  "How wise. I believe you have technique after all."

  "What's that?"

  "Don't you know? Well, never mind. Perhaps you haven't."

  "Where did Elliot propose to you?" asked Gina interestedly.

  Philippa paused in her wanderings and clasped a work-basket to her bosom with an ecstatic gesture. "On an is-land in the middle of Piccadilly. He had a cold in his head," she said fondly.

  "Oh no, Philippa!" Gina looked disappointed. "I thought 'at least a conservatory and music off."

  "Darling, you have such old-fashioned ideas. Even in my young days—"

  "Well, I've only had one proposal in my life. I don't know how it's done," said Gina conversationally.

  "And you're expecting another tonight—in the conservatory—with music off? What a heavenly blush, Gina. You are old-fashioned!" Philippa exclaimed. "Are you going to accept him? Do tell me—just me."

  "I probably won't be given a chance," Gina replied.

  They went off in two cars, watched gleefully from the front door by Sebastian, who had flatly refused to face another dance. The roads were very bad, and Mark in the leading car drove carefully. Presently, tired of a steady pace, Victor's Bentley roared past, and the rear light was soon seen fast disappearing on ahead.

  "I wish he wouldn't play the fool when the roads are like this," Mark said irritably. "He ought to remember he's got Julie with him."

  Gina danced principally with Evan, who was one of their party, and Philippa, who sat out a good deal with Mark, watched them with interest.

  "Are Gina and young Hunter going to make a match of it?" Elliot Carey asked once, and Mark said quickly:

  "Why should you think so?"

  "Well, I should have thought it was pretty obvious. He's been hanging round most devotedly all the time we've been here, and she looks as if she likes him all right."

  "I think it would be a very suitable match," Julie said composedly. "Of course Evan would have to wait until he came down from Cambridge, but that won't be long now."

  "Are you serious, Julie?" asked Mark.

  "But, Mark, you always knew I hoped they would marry," said Julie gently. "Evan will have money eventually, and the Hunters are very nice people. Gina isn't everybody's choice, you know."

  "I think she's damned attractive," said Carey frankly. "That Pratt girl can't hold a candle to her, in spite of her looks."

  "Attractive? Gina?" exclaimed Julie with real surprise. "Yes, perhaps she is in a queer sort of way. But I repeat, she isn't everybody's choice."

  Mark said nothing, and Philippa remarked thoughtfully, "I think perhaps it's a pity to push her on to anyone 'as young as Evan Hunter. Gina strikes me as a girl who'd be happier with someone rather older."

  Julie glanced at her sharply. "How absurd you are, Phil," she said quickly. "You'll say she's a girl who needs understanding next."

  "Yes, I think she does," said Philippa quietly, and Mark got up with an abrupt impatient gesture and walked away to the bar.

  "Julie, you're rather foolish, my dear," Philippa said softly.

  "What do you mean?"

  "You're afraid of Mark marrying Gina, aren't you?"

  "Phil!" Julie prepared to bluster, then gave in with a shrug. "Yes, I suppose I am," she said. "Mark's at the age when he ought to marry. For so many years he couldn't afford to, and when he could he didn't want to
. I may not always keep house for him. He ought to marry, but not Gina. What happiness would he find there?"

  "My dear, what right have you to presume he wouldn't be happy with Gina?" Philippa asked. "I think they would both be happy, which is better than only Mark being happy, don't you think? It's foolish to let your own dislike blind you to everything else."

  "It isn't pure dislike," Julie returned. "But it wouldn't be suitable, Phil. Mark is years older than Gina—he's a different generation. She couldn't satisfy him."

  "You don't look very far, Julie, or you'd have seen that Gina is much nearer Mark's generation than her own."

  Julie flashed her a troubled look. "I wonder if that's true," she said almost under her breath, then added defiantly, "Anyway, there's Evan to contend with."

  "Perhaps," said Philippa, smiling a little cryptically. "But you make a great mistake in taking the attitude you do with Mark. There's such a thing as putting ideas into a person's head, you know." She watched Julie a little mischievously out of the tail of her eye, and was amused to see her bite her lips hard. Poor Julie, she thought compassionately. She was so much her own enemy.

  II

  Gina had danced eight consecutive dances with Evan, without being aware that she had cut two she had promised to sit out with Mark.

  She was, for the moment, blissfully happy with Evan, only aware that their steps matched perfectly, their dancing was not marred by trivial conversation, and his young face so near her own was handsomer than ever. She knew that later he would take her somewhere quiet to sit out, and then of course he would propose, as he so nearly had on New Year's Eve. She was unconsciously whipping herself into a state of expectation, and when at last he said quietly, "Shall we go and sit down now?" she felt suddenly deliriously nervous.

  They found a quiet corner away from the ballroom, and looking down the corridor, Gina spied a small conservatory.

  "Oh!" She gave a little gasp, then seized Evan's hand. "Will you—do you mind if we go in there?" she asked.

  "It'll be a bit hot, won't it? But just as you like," he returned, and they went inside and sat down on two hard little chairs among some dusty ferns. They could just hear the hand playing in the distance, and suddenly felt very shy and alone.

  "Are you enjoying it?" asked Evan.

  "Yes. Are you?"

  "Yes. Too many people."

  "Not up here."

  "No, but we'll have to go back. Gina—I wish I could have you quite alone all to myself. I hate other men looking at you."

  "Darling Evan, why?"

  "You know why."

  "Do I?"

  "Of course you do. Gina—I wanted to tell you on New Year's Eve, but you wouldn't let me, and then you ran away because I had to go off and dance with Nancy."

  Gina burst into a peal of laughter. "Oh, Evan! Did you really think that was why I went home?"

  "Well, wasn't it?" he asked simply.

  "No—of course not. How silly you are!" she said, and knew instantly it was the wrong answer.

  "Oh! I thought you had minded that."

  "Should I have?" she inquired, and realized that he was young enough to have wanted her to be jealous of Nancy. "I'm sorry, Evan, but that really wasn't the reason."

  "Oh!" he said again, and seemed at a loss how to proceed.

  "You know I shall he quite decently off—I mean, when

  the old birds go " he burst out suddenly. "Well, you

  know, Gina, I have prospects and all that."

  "Evan, why don't you say it straight out?" she said affectionately, and looked at him, her green eyes aslant.

  He gave a little self-conscious laugh and said, "If you know what T want, can't you help me out?"

  "You're so frightfully modern about it." She sighed and looked round at the ferns.

  "Oh, well, it's so difficult—Gina—oh, darling, you're so lovely, I can't really think of anything else," he cried suddenly. "I love you, Gina. I love you terribly. Darling—"

  He pulled her to her feet, and dragged her into his arms with a rough, boyish gesture. She yielded to him without a struggle and felt his warm young lips pressed hard to hers.

  Long before he released her she knew she could never love him, and she was conscious of a flood of bitter disappointment. Automatically she returned his kiss, and, as she did so, she remembered with a vivid sense of shock the kiss she had given to Mark on New Year's Eve.

  "Darling . . . you do love me . . . my dear . . . my dearest . . ." Evan was murmuring above her head, and she pushed him away. "Gina, you're shy!" he exclaimed. His eyes were very blue in his flushed face, and he began to straighten his tie a little nervously "Do I have to inter-view Mrs. Gale or Proctor? Mrs. Gale, I suppose—Darling, we won't be able to be married for some time. Shall you mind?"

  "Evan—listen."

  She felt herself begin to shake. This was horrible ! How did one manage to get to an emotional pitch of this kind when all the time it could lead to nothing?

  "This is all a mistake. You mustn't go on."

  "A mistake? What on earth do you mean, darling?" He sounded incredulous, almost amused.

  "Evan—I don't love you—not enough to marry you," she said bravely.

  He looked bewildered, then horrified. "Do you mean to tell me that you never meant a thing all this time?" he cried. "That you led me on just for the fun of seeing me make a fool of myself?"

  "No, no. I was serious all the time—until this very moment I think I wanted to marry you. But can't you understand how difficult it is to know when one is just running round together?" she pleaded.

  "No," he returned harshly. "I can't. I knew—all the time."

  "But you were sure. That's the whole thing. I was never sure, and I wanted to find out. If—if you'd kissed me before, Evan, I would have known."

  "Is that all you wanted? The usual kissing and messing about? I thought you were different."

  "Please—you must try and believe that I'm loathing all this. I hate to let you down. 1. like you terribly, but that isn't enough for marriage. I thought quite honestly that. I Could easily fall in love with you, but I know now I couldn't. Surely it's much better to say so?"

  "If you could only have known before—"

  In the midst of her distress, Gina almost smiled. He was so young. His pride was hurt, almost more than his heart.

  "I'm too old for you, really," she said involuntarily, but he only stared at her stupidly.

  "Listen, Evan," she said gently. "I've every reason but one for marrying you. Julie wishes it and would have made things easy for us. I badly want to relieve Mark of my keep, so I was willing enough, and I like you enormously. It would have been quite easy to have accepted you and let you think I loved you, but it wouldn't have been honest. I like you too much to make use of you. Wouldn't you really rather have it this way?"

  He was silent, looking away from her, wretched and embarrassed. "I don't know—I don't know," he said miserably.

  "You were attracted to me much too suddenly," she went on earnestly. "It was only because I'd grown up, and looked more presentable. Me—the real me was always there, but you didn't find it till I had some pretty clothes. So you see, I don't think I would necessarily always attract you. Later on you would prefer people like Nancy Pratt—"

  "Leave Nancy alone," he said with a violence that startled her. "She's a very nice girl."

  "Very," said Gina, feeling a little dazed.

  "You always had a down on her. I suppose you were jealous, till I turned her down for you."

  "Did you turn her down for me?"

  "Well, not exactly, but if you hadn't cropped up when you did—"

  Gina giggled nervously. "It sounds like a weed or something," she said. "I'm awfully sorry, Evan. I seem to have been a bit of an error all round." She had a terrible feeling that she was going to burst out laughing, and her one desire was to get out of the stuffy conservatory, and away from Evan.

  "Nancy's very fond of you," she said irrelevantly. "Evan, I'm ter
ribly sorry about all this. Please forgive me for—for leading you on. I didn't mean it to be just that. I—I think I'll go now. G-good-bye."

  She left him abruptly and fled down the corridor, and into the ladies' cloak-room, where she laughed out loud, long and hysterically.

  "So much for my beautiful conservatory proposal!" she gasped to her reflection in the mirror, "An island in Piccadilly would have been far better!"

  III

  Gina went back to her own party. This was going to be rather awkward, since Evan was one of their number, but at present he was nowhere to be seen. Julie was dancing with Victor, and as Gina sat down beside Mark, the Careys moved away together.

  "What have you done with young Hunter?" Mark asked a little shortly.

  "Oh, he's somewhere about," said Gina uncomfortably. Mark was looking rather severe, and she felt unaccountably shy of him.

  They watched the dancing in silence for a little while, then Mark said:

  "Julie and the Careys want to go early. You'll be all right with Evan and Swann, only don't let him scorch on those roads."

  Gina turned a dismayed face to him. "Me to go back with the Swann and Evan?" she exclaimed. "Oh, Mark, I couldn't. I'll come with you."

  "I'm afraid there won't be room. We shall be six as it is, and we're taking back the Neills. Why? Have you quarreled with Evan?"

  "Not exactly." She looked unhappy, but he wasn't going to give her any help. "Must you go early? Aren't you enjoying it?"

  He glanced at her a little curiously. "Not particularly. But if you remember, I never much wanted to come. I think it was you who persuaded me." There was some-thing in his voice that she didn't quite understand, and he said with a smile, "You told me that you considered sit-ting-out to be half the fun. Anyway, you seem to enjoy it."

  The blood rushed to her cheeks, and she dived for her programme. "Our dances!" she exclaimed. "Have I cut Rem?"

  "Only four," he said dryly.