The Beggar Man. Ruby M. Ayres
flushed. Of course, they were both wondering what she was doing with this man, and once again the consciousness of her own shabbiness overwhelmed her.
"I think it's time I went home," she said, and broke off sharply as the door swung open and Peg Fraser walked into the shop.
Faith hardly knew if she was glad or sorry to be so discovered. She gripped her hands hard.
Peg came slowly down between the tables, her eyes looking to right and left in search of a vacant seat; suddenly they fell upon Faith.
She made a quick little movement towards her; then stopped, staring.
Faith smiled nervously. She did not know why, but her heart seemed to stop beating, when Peg turned on her heel without a word or sign of recognition, and sat down at a table at the far end of the room.
The man had not noticed anything; he turned to ask for his bill. Presently he looked up at Faith.
"We will go, if you really wish it," he said.
"Please." She followed him from the shop, not daring to raise her eyes to where Peg sat. Some strange emotion kept her from doing so.
Out in the street the sky had grown overcast. Heavy drops were spattering the pavement. "We'd better have a taxicab," the man said.
Faith stood on the kerb while he went in pursuit of a taxicab. It seemed wonderful to her that anybody should have so much money that a taxicab was an ordinary everyday luxury. It was raining steadily by the time they drove away. The man pulled up the window.
"My luck's in," he said abruptly. "I wanted to speak to you and it would not have been possible if we had walked."
His grey eyes searched her wistful face doubtfully, then he went on again:
"I've taken a fancy to you. There's something about you I like. I should be very pleased if with all my money I could do something to make your life happier. I've never seen your mother or the twins, but I should like to see them."
The colour rose slowly to Faith's face. She was sure now that he was joking.
"Of course, you don't mean it!" she said quiveringly.
"Don't mean it? Good heavens!" The man laughed. "I do mean it, every word! When we were having tea just now I did a lot of thinking. I am a man who makes up his mind quickly and sticks to it. Now, look here, I'm going to make you an offer—without sentiment or any nonsense of that sort. I want a wife, and I want a girl who hasn't been spoilt by the tomfoolery of the world. I want a girl I can mould to my own ideas. I'll treat her well and be a good husband to a woman who could fancy me." He paused. "Well, what do you say?"
Faith was staring at him with wide eyes and parted lips. His astounding proposition had robbed her of speech. It was some seconds before she could gasp out, "What do you mean? What do you mean?"
"I mean," said the Beggar Man earnestly, "that I'd like to marry you, if you think you'd care about it."
It was many moments before Faith could find her voice; many moments before she could conquer the conviction that all this was a dream. Then she broke out, unconsciously using the words of Peg Fraser's favourite ejaculation: "It's like a novelette."
She really thought it was; she was breathless with astonishment, dazed with the unexpectedness of it all. The Beggar Man laughed.
"Is it? They always say that truth is stranger than fiction, don't they?" He let down the window of the cab and thrust his head out, calling to the driver:
"Go down the West End—the park—anywhere! I'll let you know when to stop." He sat down again beside Faith. "Well, do you think you'd like to be my wife?" he asked.
Faith shrank away from him, her face flushing.
"I don't know anything about you. You don't know anything about me," she stammered. He smiled.
"That can soon be remedied. My name is Nicholas Forrester, my real name, that is! I've been known by lots of others in my lifetime, but that's neither here nor there. I've got more money than I know what to do with. I'm like the poor devil in 'Brewster's Millions'—everything I touch turns to gold. Have you read 'Brewster's Millions'?"
"No."
"I'll tell you the story some day. There isn't time now. But if you marry me you can buy any mortal thing you like, except the moon or Buckingham Palace. Doesn't that attract you?" he asked dryly.
The colour surged back into Faith's pale face. She leaned a little towards him.
"Anything!" she asked.
The man looked faintly disappointed.
"I thought you were going to be different from other women," he said curtly. "Well, what is it you want, diamonds?"
"Diamonds!" She echoed the word blankly. "Oh, no, I was wondering if I could take mother away from Poplar, and send the twins to a nice school. They have to go to the Board School now," she explained. "If I can do that for them, I shan't want anything for myself." She raised apologetic eyes. "It's asking an awful lot, I know," she added.
The Beggar Man laid his hand for a moment on hers. Such a strong, kind hand it was, that instinctively the fear of him that had been in Faith's heart died away.
"It's not asking anything," he said. "We'll send the twins to the finest school in England if you like, and your mother can have a house in the country and anything else she wants—if you'll marry me!"
Faith's cheeks were crimson; her eyes on fire. It never occurred to her for a moment to refuse.
She looked up at him with brown eyes of gratitude unutterable. "I should just love to marry you," she said fervently.
The Beggar Man said "Humph!" For a moment there was a silence, during which he looked at her doubtfully; then:
"What about your mother?" he asked abruptly. "What do you think she will say?"
Faith's face fell a little; in her eagerness and excitement she had forgotten what her mother would say.
"I—I'm afraid she won't quite like it," she said slowly.
She was sure that her mother would not like it. Mrs. Ledley had always been so careful about Faith's choice of friends that the girl knew what an astonishing proposal she would consider this offer of marriage to be.
Mrs. Ledley could be very firm when she chose, and Faith knew well what opposition she would have to encounter.
A sudden idea flashed across her mind.
"But we need not tell her, need we?"
A faint smile crossed his face.
"You mean till we are married?"
"Yes."
There was another queer little silence, then the Beggar Man asked, with sudden change of voice: "Do you often keep things from your mother—like this?"
She shook her head.
"I never have, until now. There's never been anything to keep. Nobody has ever asked me to marry him before, but I thought—she would be so glad afterwards, when I told her how rich you were, and what we could do for her and for the twins."
"I see."
The Beggar Man looked away from her out of the window. The rain was still falling steadily, but he did not notice it. He was trying to see ahead into the future and wondering … wondering. …
Presently he turned again to the girl beside him.
"Of course," he said abruptly, "I should be a fool to ask you if you've got any … any personal regard for me! How could you have when we've only met twice."
He waited hopefully it seemed, but Faith did not know how to answer him, and he went on rather ruefully:
"But, all the same, you're willing to marry me without telling