Nothing Venture Read Online Free PDF Page A

house rose up before Nan, heavy and square and grey. Jervis used a latchkey, and they went through the hall into a room at the back of the house—a man’s room, littered with a man’s belongings, littered also with what were obviously wedding presents—a handsome standard lamp; a cigar-box with the signatures of several donors sprawling across the crude new silver; half a dozen boxes half unpacked, with glass, china or silver showing here and there. Two windows framed in dark velvet curtains looked out upon a fair-sized garden bordered with trees.
    Nan passed into this room, and felt its atmosphere close about her. When Jervis Weare had followed her and shut the door, she was standing against one of the heavy curtains. The current had brought her here. Now it ebbed away from her. She was Nan Forsyth facing something that was going to decide all the rest of her life, and all the rest of Jervis Weare’s life. For a moment she felt fear as she had never felt it before. And then courage rose in her like a flood.
    He turned from the door and said,
    â€œYou wanted to speak to me?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œDo you mind saying what you want? I’m rather busy.”
    â€œYes,” said Nan. She put her left hand behind her and found the window-sill; she felt the need of something hard and firm to hold on to. Then she lifted her eyes to his frowning face and said, “I’m in Mr Page’s office.”
    â€œYes—you said so.” There was just the least impatient twitch of the lip as he spoke.
    â€œI’m in Mr Page’s office. When you came in this afternoon you slammed the door. It didn’t latch. I was in the office. I heard what you said to Mr Page.”
    She had been prepared for anger, but not for quite so bleak a look as this.
    â€œYou listened. Well?”
    The look hurt her beyond bearing. She winced away from it, then gripped the window-sill and kept herself steady.
    Jervis Weare did not see her wince. He was not really seeing her at all. His anger turned a cold edge upon this confessed eavesdropper.
    â€œWell?” he repeated.
    Nan kept her eyes on him. She didn’t mind his being angry; she only minded his being hurt. He was angry because he was hurt—and in his hurt, what further hurt might come to him? He was like a wounded man staggering blindly toward a precipice. If someone you cared for was doing that, you couldn’t stand aside and let them go on—you had to stop them even if they hated you for doing it.
    A third impatient “Well?” brought stumbling words to her lips:
    â€œI heard what you said to Mr Page.”
    Jervis walked to the table and stood there. He touched it with one hand and leaned forward a little. It was the picture of him which had formed in her mind when she stood listening and heard him say in his bitter voice, “You have only to find me a wife.” He must have been recalling his own words, for he was looking at her, really looking, for the first time.
    He saw a girl in a neat grey dress and a close black hat, a girl who held herself very straight and looked at him with steady grey eyes. Her face was pale, her lips pressed firmly together. He looked at her and said,
    â€œDid Mr Page send you?”
    â€œNo,” said Nan.
    â€œThen—will you explain?”
    â€œI heard what you said to Mr Page.”
    â€œSo you said. And what did I say?”
    Nan held her head a little higher.
    â€œYou said that you must be married by the sixteenth. You asked him to find a girl who would marry you at twenty-four hours’ notice.”
    The hand behind her drove the edge of the window-sill deep into her palm. She saw the cold anger of his face break suddenly. Something broke it—a different anger, a flash of humour, a something else which she could not define.
    â€œSo that’s it? You’ve got a nerve—haven’t you?”
    Nan said, “Yes,” quite soberly.
    He burst out