1938-07-29 — Page 5

CHINA

MAIL

FRIDAY SUPPLEMENT. JULY 29, 1938

OLLINGHAM opened his eyes, but in the darkness he could distinguish nothing. He realised that he was lying down, and that he felt very cold.

Cautiously, his fingers began to explore. They touched a leg, his own. It seemed to be quite normal, made of ordinary flesh and blood. He moved his head, but his neck was stiff, and the slight jerk sent a shooting pain right down to the base. He raised 'his fingers and touched his head. It was swathed in bandages.

The knowledge gave him plea- sure, and intense relief from the sickening. horrifying fear of the unknown. So he wasn't dead. He couldn't be dead. Thank God. Curious that he, of all people, should be afraid of death Never been afraid before

With infinite

care, he moved his head to the left, and saw that a woman was sitting before the fire. The glow was very faint, but it made his eyes ache. It was so faint that he failed to recog- nise the woman.

His teeth began to chatter.. He was suddenly afflicted with what he described to himself as the "staggers." No matter how much he tried, he was powerless to stop- that hideous, spasmodic 'shaking of the limbs and body.

"I say!" he cried suddenly, "I'm cold, desperately cold!"

The woman moved her chair, and got up. He could see the dim silhouette of her figure.

"Lie still," she said, "I'll get you another hot water bottle."

As he recognised her voice, he knew that he was neither dead nor dreaming; yet, at the same time, he knew that something dreadful had happened. He tried to remember what it was, but the pain in his head prevented it. He found himself growing vaguely angry as his memory defied him. Vaguely angry and very nervous. The idea of losing his memory had always filled him with horror and loathing.

+

"I don't want a bottle," he "said, "I'm going to sit by the fire," and made a weak, pitiful attempt to get out of bed.

The woman, Mrs. Brunner, his landlady, crossed towards him, and grasped his shoulder. The grasp was firm, but quite un- necessary. Collingham fell back on to the pillow. It seemed as though all the strength had gone from his body.

"Get me a bottle, then," he gasped.

"I will," Mrs. Brunner return- ed to the fire. He heard the sound of water being poured from a jug into the kettle. It was a homely sound, and gave him confidence.

"What's the matter, Mrs. Brun ner? How did I get to bed? Was I drunk?"

"No. You've had an accident." "Oh. What sort of accident? What's happened to my head ?...

"You've cut it. Lost a lot of blood. Now try and go to sleep. The doctor said you'd got to have as much sleep as possible."--"

? He paused, "The doctor trying to capture his elusive memory. Vague, shadowy recol- lections began to pierce the veil of oblivion. Yet the effort made his head ache so much that he was content to let them - dis- appear.

for the doctor,

"Yes, we se Now try and to sleep, The water's nearly on the boil, and I

WOMEN'S RIGHTS

push the bottle In between the sheets without disturbing you."

Almost before she had finished speaking, he had slipped again into unconsciousness. Mrs. Brun- ner yawned, and drew her dress- ing-gown closer. The night was cold. No wonder poor Collingham felt it. As she poured the water into the kettle she thought of the bloodstained towels in the bath- room. What a mess! Blood on the landing, down the stairs, in the hall. Blood everywhere. Like a shambles. Thank heaven Horace had been at home. In some res- pects Horace was not the ideal husband, but in an emergency, and when it came to doing un- pleasant jobs, you could rely on him. At four o'clock she'd go and make him take his turn as night

nurse.

Short Story

rage. "Better than you love me. Are you really conceited enough to think that you'll ever make enough money to live on? All this. careers-for-women, business - 18 nonsense. Women were made to look attractive, to be charming, and to be kept by man. You can't get away from it. It's one of the fundamental laws of nature. It's persisted throughout the cen-- turies, and it'll persist as long as life endures.".

"So that's what you think, is it?" Diana had been dangerously calm, "I'd no idea you were so reactionary. Well, I think it's only fair to warn you that I intend to go on with my career, and that marriage to you, in view of our widely differing opinions, would be disastrous.”.

With that, she had left him,

By Maboth Moseley

slamming the door as she did so. He had uttered one single cry, "Diana!" but she had not return-

It was after Horace had taken her place in the chair beside the faintly glowing gas fire, that Col- lingham bad another brief returned. It seemed that in his heart to consciousness, which was fol- lowed by a relapse into delirium.

Horace could make no sense at all out of the rambling sentences. What he did understand was the injured man's constant repetition of the name, Diana.

"Do Bend for Diana.. No, I despise you

I don't believe a word of it

It's frightfully hot yes, the climate in

Mos Brazil is very trying . cow? No, not the first time Collingham's-voice-trailed--on.

of hearts he had been uttering. the same cry, ever since.

As he lay muttering on his bed,

· he began to realise subconscious- ly that the whole of his – sub- sequent life and actions had been influenced by that dormant de- sire for his one and only love. She haunted him in his dreams. She pursued him, eluded him, but was never absent for long. Often he found himself pictur- ing her as she had been in those far off, happy days. Tall, shape.

"If only I could see her, justly, brown curling hair, large once more. Diana! Why aren't you here? Didn't they send for you? I say.

•

£

Horace shook his head sym- he patheticlly. Poor chap, thought, it sounds like one of those unhappy love affairs you read about in the papers, where the chap ends up with his head in the gas oven. Collingham's

mind was

phantasma- strange, confused goria, the motif of which was his quarrel with Diana. Although, in. imagination, he was again visit- ing familiar places, Diana was with him, always there, always elusive. And, somehow, he lived over again that period of his life which had culminated in the final quarrel and ultimate separa- tion.

·

Strangely enough, he realised, in his unconscious state, how. foolish and intolerant he had been

When, as versity stu dents, he and I

seemed to, stand:

youthful

had fallen time had

hazel eyes. Nothing of the blue- stocking about Diana's appear- ance, yet, somehow, she radiated an air of efficiency, invested others with confidence.

That was ten years ago. He often wondered if she had "gone off" in looks, if she had kept her word and pursued her career, if

she had married

His own life since then had not been conspicuously successful. Failing to obtain his degree, he had drifted from one job to an- other, drifted half across, the world, from China to Peru, end- ing up as the impecunious author of two brilliant books, which, perhaps owing to that same bril-

નવ

liance, had failed to sell.

It was nine o'clock on a lovely spring morning when he opened his eyes again. The sun streamed in through the window, over the chimney tops, and into the shabby little room where Mrs. Brunner was making tea.

"I say," he began, "do tell me what happened. I'm feeling, much better. I think I'll get up.

now

"Oh no.” Mrs. Brunner's tone stairs, cut your head open on the. was firm. You fell down the

bolt at the bottom of the front door, and you had had what's the word? con-con concussion. That's it! The doc tor says it's a miracle you didn't fracture your skull. It's lucký we managed to get one at all. A doe- tor, I mean. Coo, I was that frightened, You might easily have bled to death."-

"That's what doctors are for," Collingham grunted, "To prevent people bleeding to death."

"Yes," Mrs. Brunner was silent for a space, "Still, you never know," she added mysteriously. "If it had got about it wouldn't have done the house any good."

"What wouldn't?" Collingham was beginning to feel irritated. His brain seemed to be wrapped in cotton wool,

Why, your accident, of course,

don't see what adifferenco that could have made..

She thrust her fingers through her tousled grey hair. Her plump face looked haggard and or, a fact which escaped Col- lingham & notice,

"Well," she sai alon know how rissin-

it had got about thà you'd faliòn down the stairs an cut your head open they'd

fighting enough to give name,"

[YOU) WAQ indie that's house bad.

ighting drunk?” he repeated, "But was I drunk?"

“No.” She paused, · gazing down at her bedroom slippers, "But I must say when. I saw you lying at the bottom of the stairs I thought you'd killed yourself. The blood was somethink, awful. I thought there was certain to be an inquest,”.

Most unpleasant for you Collingham's tone was sardonic. "But, Mrs. Brunner, this is worrying me very much. I seem to have lost my memory. 1 don't remember a thing about falling "downstairs, What happened before, then?"

“Why, don't you remember the gentleman what came to see you? (Continued on Page 1)

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