Читать книгу The Dawn of Reckoning - James Hilton - Страница 31

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"Oh, Philip," she cried, rushing forward to him. "Are you better?"

He was sitting in an arm-chair in the mayoral anteroom, and two men were there with him. One was standing in front of the fire with his hands in his pockets, and the other was mixing and consuming brandies and sodas. Stella's sudden entrance surprised them both, but not Philip; he said smilingly: "I thought you'd c-come, Stella."

He spoke very sadly, and then rallied a little and remembered to introduce her to the two others. "Mr. Henry Crayford...Sir Thomas Hayling...my—s-sister..." (He always introduced her as his sister, to avoid misunderstandings.)

A muffled roar enveloped them suddenly like the sound of a railway train passing overhead. "Maddison's finished," said Crayford, nodding towards the door. "Perhaps we'd better get back."

The other smiled approvingly. "Perhaps we may leave Mr. Monsell in your capable hands," he said, addressing Stella.

Somehow she disliked both of them instinctively. She nodded curtly, and they bowed to her and went out. Not a word or a sign to Philip. She saw him flush as he realised the significance of the omission.

As soon as they had gone she flung herself down on the carpet and knelt by the side of him with her cheek against his hand. "Oh, Philip—Philip you mustn't mind them—they're nothing, they're nobodies—they don't count—you mustn't let them hurt you—you mustn't, you mustn't, Philip!"

"I d-don't," he said, bravely.

She did not know what to say after that. She was almost crying, and a renewal of the cheering outside in the hall brought the tears swimming into her eyes. If only Philip could have made them cheer like that! If only...She exclaimed, passionately: "Oh, Philip, dear Philip, you mustn't worry about it—it doesn't matter—doesn't matter a tiny scrap—"

He answered, stroking her hair gently: "Ah, but you know it d-does matter. And I know t-too. Stella, you think I've Mailed, don't you? You're s-sorry for me, eh? "—He brushed back the hair that was straggling down over his forehead and went on in a changed tone: "B-but I'll win yet, Stella. I know I will. I won't be beaten."

She flung her arms round his neck and drew his head down to hers. "Oh, Philip, I love you to say that—and I love you when you say it—yes, I do love you, Philip—ever so much—and I mean that!"

She stopped, seeing that he had turned very pale again. "I have l-loved you for a long t-time, Stella," he answered calmly, "but I did not g-guess that you l-loved me."

"Oh, you poor old Philip—" she said, pressing her face to his so that her tears wet his cheek. It was just like him, to be shy of telling her, and then, when she had told him, to be so calm about it. She added, half-sobbing "Didn't you ever wonder if I did?"

He nodded quaintly. "Yes, I s-sometimes wondered. And I—I m-made up my mind I would ask you when I had—when I had s-succeeded."

His mouth twisted into a wry smile over that final word.