Children of the Whirlwind [78]
meeting.
And indeed it was a strangely different meeting from the last time she had seen him, at the Grantham; strangely different from those earlier meetings down at the Duchess's when both had been grubs as yet unmetamorphosized. Now standing in the arbor they looked a pair of weekend guests, in keeping with the place. For, as Maggie had noted, Larry in his well-cut flannels was as greatly transformed as Hunt.
It was Larry who ended the silence. "Shall we sit down?"
She mechanically sank to the bench, still staring at him.
"What are you doing here?" she managed to breathe.
"I belong here."
"Belong here?"
"I work here," he explained. "I'm called 'Mr. Brandon,' but Miss Sherwood knows exactly who I am and what I've been."
"How long have you been here?"
"Since that night when Barney and Old Jimmie took you away to begin your new career--the same night that I ran away from those gunmen who thought I was a squealer, and from Casey and Gavegan."
"And all the while that Barney and my father and the police have thought you hiding some place in the West, you've been with the Sherwoods?"
"Yes. And I've got to remain in hiding until something happens that will clear me. If the police or Barney and his friends learn where I am--you can guess what will happen."
She nodded.
"Hunt got me here," he went on to explain. "I'm assisting in trying to get the Sherwood business affairs in better shape. I might as well tell you, Maggie," he added quietly, "that Dick Sherwood is my very good friend."
"Dick Sherwood!" she breathed.
"And I might as well tell you," he went on, "that since that night at the Grantham when I heard his voice, I've known that Dick is the sucker you and Barney and Old Jimmie are trying to trim."
She half rose, and her voice sounded sharply: "Then you've got me caught in a trap! You've told them about me?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Not so loud, or we may attract attention," he warned her. "I haven't told because you had your chance to give me away to Barney that night at the Grantham. And you didn't give me away."
She sank slowly back to the bench. "Is that your only reason?"
"No," he answered truthfully. "Exposing you would merely mean that you'd feel harder toward me--and harder toward every one else. I don't want that."
She pondered this a moment. "Then--you're not going to tell?"
He shook his head. "I don't expect to. I want you to be free to decide what you're going to do--though I hope you'll decide not to go through with this thing you're doing."
She made no response. Larry had spoken with control until now, but his next words burst from him.
"Don't you see what a situation it's put me in, Maggie--trying to play square with my friends, the Sherwoods, and trying to play square with you?"
Again she did not answer.
"Maggie, you're too good for what you're doing--it's all a terrible mistake!" he cried passionately. Then he remembered himself, and spoke with more composure. "Oh, I know there's not much use in talking to you now--while you feel as you do about yourself--and while you feel as you do about me. But you know I love you, and want to marry you-- when--" He halted.
"When?" she prompted, almost involuntarily.
"When you see things differently--and when I can go around the world a free man, not a fugitive from Barney and his gunmen and the police."
Again Maggie was silent for a moment. It was as if she were trying to press out of her mind what he had said about loving her. Truly this was, indeed, different from their previous meetings. Before, there had almost invariably been a defiant attitude, a dispute, a quarrel. Now she had no desire to quarrel.
Finally she said with an effort to be that self-controlled person which she had established as her model:
"You seem to have your chance here to put over what you boasted to me about. You remember making good in a straight way."
"Yes. And I shall make good--if only they will let me alone." He paused an instant. "But I have no illusions about the present," he went on quietly. "I'm
And indeed it was a strangely different meeting from the last time she had seen him, at the Grantham; strangely different from those earlier meetings down at the Duchess's when both had been grubs as yet unmetamorphosized. Now standing in the arbor they looked a pair of weekend guests, in keeping with the place. For, as Maggie had noted, Larry in his well-cut flannels was as greatly transformed as Hunt.
It was Larry who ended the silence. "Shall we sit down?"
She mechanically sank to the bench, still staring at him.
"What are you doing here?" she managed to breathe.
"I belong here."
"Belong here?"
"I work here," he explained. "I'm called 'Mr. Brandon,' but Miss Sherwood knows exactly who I am and what I've been."
"How long have you been here?"
"Since that night when Barney and Old Jimmie took you away to begin your new career--the same night that I ran away from those gunmen who thought I was a squealer, and from Casey and Gavegan."
"And all the while that Barney and my father and the police have thought you hiding some place in the West, you've been with the Sherwoods?"
"Yes. And I've got to remain in hiding until something happens that will clear me. If the police or Barney and his friends learn where I am--you can guess what will happen."
She nodded.
"Hunt got me here," he went on to explain. "I'm assisting in trying to get the Sherwood business affairs in better shape. I might as well tell you, Maggie," he added quietly, "that Dick Sherwood is my very good friend."
"Dick Sherwood!" she breathed.
"And I might as well tell you," he went on, "that since that night at the Grantham when I heard his voice, I've known that Dick is the sucker you and Barney and Old Jimmie are trying to trim."
She half rose, and her voice sounded sharply: "Then you've got me caught in a trap! You've told them about me?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Not so loud, or we may attract attention," he warned her. "I haven't told because you had your chance to give me away to Barney that night at the Grantham. And you didn't give me away."
She sank slowly back to the bench. "Is that your only reason?"
"No," he answered truthfully. "Exposing you would merely mean that you'd feel harder toward me--and harder toward every one else. I don't want that."
She pondered this a moment. "Then--you're not going to tell?"
He shook his head. "I don't expect to. I want you to be free to decide what you're going to do--though I hope you'll decide not to go through with this thing you're doing."
She made no response. Larry had spoken with control until now, but his next words burst from him.
"Don't you see what a situation it's put me in, Maggie--trying to play square with my friends, the Sherwoods, and trying to play square with you?"
Again she did not answer.
"Maggie, you're too good for what you're doing--it's all a terrible mistake!" he cried passionately. Then he remembered himself, and spoke with more composure. "Oh, I know there's not much use in talking to you now--while you feel as you do about yourself--and while you feel as you do about me. But you know I love you, and want to marry you-- when--" He halted.
"When?" she prompted, almost involuntarily.
"When you see things differently--and when I can go around the world a free man, not a fugitive from Barney and his gunmen and the police."
Again Maggie was silent for a moment. It was as if she were trying to press out of her mind what he had said about loving her. Truly this was, indeed, different from their previous meetings. Before, there had almost invariably been a defiant attitude, a dispute, a quarrel. Now she had no desire to quarrel.
Finally she said with an effort to be that self-controlled person which she had established as her model:
"You seem to have your chance here to put over what you boasted to me about. You remember making good in a straight way."
"Yes. And I shall make good--if only they will let me alone." He paused an instant. "But I have no illusions about the present," he went on quietly. "I'm