The Hundredth Chance. Ethel M. Dell

had a sudden, hysterical desire to laugh. She restrained herself with a desperate effort.

      "Good night!" she said, with something of urgency in her voice. "It isn't bunkum at all. It's the truth. You--I think you are the best friend I ever had. But--but----"

      "But--" said Jake.

      She freed her hands with a little gasp. "Nothing," she said. "Good night!"

      It was a final dismissal, and as such he accepted it. She heard the steady fall of his feet as he went away, and with his going she managed to recover her composure.

      There was an undeniable greatness about him that seemed to dwarf all criticism. She realized that to measure him by ordinary standards was out of the question, and as she reviewed all that he had done for her that day a gradual warmth began to glow in her. There was no other friend in all her world who would have extended to her so firm or so comforting a support in her hour of adversity. And if her face burned at the memory of her own utter collapse in his presence, she could but recall with gratitude and with confidence the steadfast kindness with which he had upheld her. She had gone to him in anguished despair, and he had offered her the utmost that he had to offer. As to his motives for so doing, she had a feeling that he had deliberately refrained from expressing them. He wanted her and he wanted Bunny. Perhaps he was lonely. Perhaps years of wandering had created in him a longing for home and domestic comfort.

      But she did not speculate very deeply upon that subject. She felt that she could not. There was something in the man's nature, something colossal of which she was but dimly aware, and which she had no means of gauging, that checked her almost at the outset. She found herself standing before a closed door, a door which she had neither the audacity nor the desire to attempt to open. She was even a little fearful lest one day that door should open to her of its own accord and she should be constrained to enter whether she would or not.

      But on the whole that talk with Jake had calmed her. The man was so temperate, so completely master of himself, and withal so staunch in the friendship he had established with her, that she could not but feel reassured. There was a delicacy in his consideration for her that warmed her heart. She knew by every instinct of her being that he would take care of her as he had promised. And she wanted someone to take care of her so badly, so badly.

      She was so deadly tired of fending for herself.

      She found Bunny in a mood of remarkable docility, and she managed to get him to bed without much trouble. He also was worn out after two nights of restlessness, and he fell asleep earlier than usual.

      She herself sat for awhile in the little sitting-room with a book, but she found she could not read. She was too tired to fix her attention, and the thought of Jake kept intruding itself whenever she attempted to do so. It was wonderful how she had come to rely upon him, knowing so little of him. He had always been far more to Bunny than to her.

      She was drifting into a kind of semi-doze, still with the memory of him passing and repassing through her brain, when there came the sound of a bell in the house, and almost immediately after, the opening of the sitting-room door.

      She started up in surprise to see her landlady usher in a little, spare grey-whiskered man who walked with a strut and cleared his throat as he came with a noise like the growling of a dog. He made her think irresistibly of a Scotch terrier bristling for a fight.

      He halted in the middle of the room, and banged with his umbrella on the floor, as one demanding a hearing.

      "Hullo!" he said. "My name's Warren. You, I take it, are Maud Brian. If so, I'm your Uncle Edward."

      Maud came forward, still feeling a little dazed. Since Jake's departure she had almost forgotten the approaching advent of this relative of hers.

      "How do you do?" she said. "Yes, I am Maud Brian. Come and sit down!"

      He took her hand, looking at her with small grey eyes that were keenly critical.

      "How old are you?" he demanded.

      "I am twenty-five," said Maud, faintly smiling.

      He uttered a grunting growl and sat down with a jerk. "I've come straight from your mother to talk to you. She's a fool, always was. I hope you're not another."

      "Thank you," said Maud sedately.

      He brought his shaggy grey brows together. "I've come the length of England to see you, but I haven't any time to waste. I'm going back to-morrow. That letter of yours--I meant to answer it, but business pressed, and it had to stand over. Then I decided to come and see what sort of young woman you were before I did anything further. I couldn't stand a replica of your mother in my house. But--thank goodness--you're not much like her. She tells me you're thinking of making a marriage of convenience to get away from your step-father. Now, that's a very serious step for a young woman to contemplate. It seems to me I've turned up in the nick of time."

      Maud, sitting facing him with her hands folded in her lap, still faintly smiled. The bluntness with which he tackled the situation appealed more to her sense of humour than to any other emotion. She realized that he was actually about to offer her a way of escape, but, curiously, she no longer felt any desire to avail herself of it. By his generous assurance that she was at liberty to do as she would, Jake had somehow managed to range her on his side. She did not want to escape any more. Moreover, there was Bunny to be thought of. She knew well in what direction his desires--and his welfare also--lay.

      "It was very kind of you to come," she said. "But, as regards my marriage, my mind is quite made up. He--the man I am going to marry--understands everything. I have been quite open with him. He has been most kind, most generous. I could not think of drawing back now."

      "Pshaw!" said Mr. Warren. He sat forward in his chair, his hands gripping the knob of his umbrella and surveyed her with growing disapproval. "You're prepared to sell yourself to a man you don't love in return for a home, hey?" he asked.

      She winced sharply, and in a moment her tired young face was flooded with colour. "Certainly not!" she said, her voice very low. "Most certainly not!"

      "Looks uncommonly like it," he maintained.

      "It is not so!" she said, with low-toned vehemence. "I have told you--he--understands."

      "And is prepared to give all and receive nothing for his pains?" pursued the old man relentlessly. "If so, he's a very remarkable young man; and let me tell you for your comfort, it's an attitude he won't keep up for long, not--that is--unless he's a blithering idiot? Is he an idiot?"

      Maud almost laughed. "No, that he is not! But really--really--you are wasting your time. If you had come this time yesterday, I would have listened to you. To-night it is impossible."

      "Why impossible?"

      "Because I have promised."

      "Tut! tut! He must release you."

      "He would release me," Maud said slowly. "That is just it."

      "Just what? Talk sense if you can!" It was evident that patience was not Uncle Edward's strong point. He fidgeted his umbrella testily.

      She looked at him with her clear, straight eyes. "That is just why I will not ask for my release. In fact, I--don't want it."

      "Don't want it! Then, young woman, you're in love with him. I've come on a fool's errand, and I'll wish you good night."

      He was on his feet with the words. Maud rose too. She laid a hand of half-timid restraint upon his arm.

      "I am not--in love with him, Uncle Edward," she said, her voice not wholly steady. "Such a thing would be impossible. But at the same time--though I can't give him everything--he shall not repent his bargain. We are going to be--friends."

      "Pshaw!" said Uncle Edward again. He gripped her hand unexpectedly, staring up at her with his keen eyes. "Do you know how old I am?" he said.

      She shook her head.

      "I'm eighty," he said. "I've seen a little of men in my time, and I've been a man myself. So let me tell you this! There's not a man on this earth who could be satisfied