The Hundredth Chance. Ethel M. Dell

wanting in his friends.

      She turned with a sigh. "Let's go and get it over!" she said. "But I can't stay long. I shall have to get back to Bunny."

      She and Bunny had spent all the afternoon and evening settling into their new quarters at the Anchor Hotel, and it had been a tiring task. The bride and bridegroom had gone straight from the registry-office where the ceremony had been performed to the county town some thirty miles distant, in the one ramshackle little motor that the hotel possessed, and had returned barely in time to receive the guests whom Sheppard had invited to his wedding-feast.

      Neither Maud nor her mother had been told much of the forthcoming festivity, and the girl's dismay upon learning that she was expected to attend it was considerable. She was feeling tired and depressed. Bunny was in a difficult mood, and she knew that another bad night lay before them. Still it was impossible to refuse. She could only yield with as good a grace as she could muster.

      "Make yourself pretty, won't you, dear?" said Mrs. Sheppard as, her point gained, she prepared smilingly to depart. "Wear your white silk! You look charming in that."

      Maud had not the faintest wish to look charming, but yet again she could not refuse to gratify a wish so amiably expressed. She donned the white silk, therefore, though feeling in any but a festive mood, and prepared herself for the ordeal with a grim determination to escape from it as soon as possible.

      She was not tall, but her extreme slenderness gave her a decidedly regal pose. She held her head proudly and bore herself with distinction. Her eyes--those wonderful blue-violet eyes--had the aloof expression of one whose soul is far away.

      Giles Sheppard watched her enter the drawing-room behind her mother, and a bitter sneer crossed his bloated face. He was utterly incapable of appreciating that innate pride of race that expressed itself in every line of her. He read only contempt for him and his in the girl's still face, and the deep resentment kindled the night before began to smoulder within him with an ever-increasing heat. How dared she show her airs and graces here?-- She, a penniless minx dependent now upon his charity for the very bread she ate!

      He turned with an ugly jest at her expense upon his lips to the man with whom he had been talking at her entrance; but the jest was checked unuttered. For the man, square, thickset as a bulldog, abruptly left his side and moved forward.

      The quick blood mounted in Maud's face as he intercepted her. She looked at him for a second as if she would turn and flee. But he held out a steady hand to her, and she had to place hers within it.

      In a moment his peculiar voice accosted her. "You remember me, Miss Brian? I'm Jake Bolton--the horse breaker. I had the pleasure of doing your brother a small service yesterday."

      Both hand and voice reassured her. She had an absurd feeling that he was meting out to her such treatment as he would have considered suitable for a nervous horse. She forced herself to smile upon him; it was the only thing to do.

      He smiled in return--his pleasant open smile. "Remember me now?" he said.

      "Quite well," she answered.

      "Good!" he said briefly. "Let me find you a chair! I don't suppose you know many of the people here."

      She did not know any of them, and as Sheppard had seized upon his bride, and was presenting her in rude triumph to each in turn with much noisy laughter and coarse joking it was not difficult to slip into a corner with Jake Bolton without attracting further attention.

      He stood beside her for a space while covertly she took stock of him.

      Yes, he actually had discarded his gaiters and was wearing evening dress. It did not seem a natural garb for him, but he carried it better than she would have expected. He still reminded her very forcibly of horses, though she could not have definitely said wherein this strong suggestion lay. His ruddy face and short, dominant nose might have belonged to a sailor. But the brilliant chestnut eyes with their red-brown lashes were somehow not of the sea. They made her think of the reek of leather and the thud of galloping hoofs.

      Suddenly he turned and caught her critical survey. She dropped her eyes instantly in hot confusion, while he, as if he had just made up his mind, sat down beside her.

      "So you and your brother are going to live here?" he said.

      She answered him in a low voice; the words seemed to leap from her almost without her conscious volition. "We can't help ourselves."

      He gave a short nod as of a suspicion confirmed, and sat in silence for a little. The loud laughter of Giles Sheppard's guests filled in the pause.

      Maud held herself rigidly still, repressing a nervous shiver that attacked her repeatedly.

      Suddenly the man beside her spoke. "What's the matter with that young brother of yours?"

      With relief she came out of her tense silence. "It is an injury to the spine. He had a fall in his babyhood. He suffers terribly sometimes."

      "Nothing to be done?" he asked.

      She shook her head. "No one very good has seen him. He won't let a doctor come near him now."

      "Oh rats!" exclaimed Jake Bolton unexpectedly.

      She felt her colour rise as he turned his bright eyes upon her.

      "You don't say that a kid like that can get the better of you?" he said.

      She resented the question; yet she answered it. "Bunny has a strong will. I never oppose it."

      "And why not?" He was looking directly at her with a comical smile as if he were inspecting some quaint object of interest.

      Again against her will she made reply. "I try to give him all he wants. He has missed all that is good in life."

      He wrinkled his forehead for a moment as if puzzled, then broke into a laugh. "Say, what a queer notion to get!" he said.

      She stiffened on the instant, but he did not seem to notice it. He leaned towards her, and laid one finger--a short, square fore-finger--on her arm.

      "Tell me now--what are the good things in life?"

      She withdrew her arm from his touch, and regarded him with a hauteur that did not wholly veil her embarrassment.

      "You don't know!" said Jake. "Be honest and say so!"

      But Maud only retired further into her shell. "I think we have wandered rather far from the subject," she said coldly. "My brother is unfortunately the victim of circumstance, and no discussion can alter that fact."

      He accepted the snub without a sign of discomfiture. "Is he here now?" he asked.

      She bent her head. "In this house--yes."

      "Will you let me see him presently?" he pursued.

      Distantly she made reply. "I am afraid that is impossible."

      "Why?" he said.

      She raised her dark brows.

      "Tell me why!" he insisted.

      Calmly she met his look. "It is not good for him to see strangers at night. It upsets his rest."

      "You think it would be bad for him to see me?" he questioned.

      His voice was suddenly very deliberate. He was looking her full in the face.

      A curious little tremor went through her. She felt as if he had pinioned her there before him.

      Her reply astounded herself. "I don't say it would be bad for him,--only--inadvisable. He is rather excited already."

      "Will you ask him presently if he would cane to see me?" said Jake Bolton steadily.

      She bit her lip, hesitating.

      "I shan't upset him," he said. "I won't excite him. I'll quiet him down."

      She did not want to yield--yet she yielded. "I will ask him--if you wish," she said.

      He smiled. "Thank you, Miss Brian. You didn't want to give in, did you?