Welcome to sleep stories with Steph your go-to podcast.
That offers you a calm and relaxing transition into sleep.
Into a great night's sleep.
It is time to relax and fully let go.
There is nothing you need to be doing now.
And know where you need to go.
Close your eyes.
And feel yourself sink into the support beneath you.
And let all the worries of the day go.
Drift away.
This is your time.
And your space.
Take a deep breath in through your nose.
And let it out with a long sigh.
That's it!
There is nothing you need to be doing now.
And know where you need to go.
Happy listening.
Kismet The fifth heat in the free floor was just over.
Lulu had won,
And the crowd on the grandstand and the hangers-on around the track were cheering themselves hoarse.
Clear through the noisy clamour shrilled a woman's cry.
I've dropped my scorecard!
A man in front of her turned.
I have an extra one,
Madam.
Will you accept it?
The lady's small,
Modestly gloved hand closed eagerly on it before she lifted her eyes to his face.
Both started convulsively.
The man turned very pale,
But the woman's ripe tinted face coloured darkly.
You!
She faltered.
The man's lips parted in the coldly grave smile she remembered and hated.
You were not glad to see me,
He said calmly.
But that,
I suppose,
Was not to be expected.
I did not come here to annoy you.
This meeting is as unexpected to me as it is to you.
I had no suspicion that for the last half hour I'd been standing next to my.
.
.
The lady interrupted him with an imperious gesture.
Still clutching the scorecard she half turned from him.
Again he smiled,
This time with a tinge of scorn,
And shifted his eyes to the track.
None of the people around them had noticed the little by-play.
All eyes were on the track which was being cleared for the first heat of another race.
The free-for-all horses were being led away blanketed.
The crowd cheered Lulu as she went past a shapeless oddity.
The back as a mascot,
The rival favourite,
Looked gloomy.
The woman noticed nothing of all this.
She was small,
Very pretty,
Still young and gowned in quite an unmistakable way.
She studied the man's profile furtively.
He looked older than when she'd last seen him.
There were some silver threads gleaming in his clothes,
Clipped dark hair and short pointed beard.
Otherwise,
There was little change in the quiet features and somewhat stern grey eyes.
She wondered if he had cared at all.
They had not met for five years.
She shut her eyes and locked it in on her past.
She had been 18 when they were married,
A gay high-spirited girl in the season's beauty.
He was much older and a quiet,
Serious student.
Her friends had wondered why she married him.
Sometimes she wondered herself.
But she had loved him,
Or thought so.
The marriage had been an unhappy one.
She was fond of society and gaiety,
And he wanted quiet and seclusion.
She was impulsive and impatient and he was deliberate and grave.
The strong wills clashed.
After two years of an unbearable sort of life they had separated,
Quietly and without scandal of any sort.
She had wanted a divorce,
But he would not agree to that,
So she had taken her own independent fortune and gone back to her own way of life.
In the following five years,
She'd succeeded in burying all remembrance well out of sight.
No one knew if she was satisfied or not.
Her world was charitable to her and she lived a gay and quite irreproachable life.
Now she wished she had not come to the races.
It was such an irritating encounter.
She opened her eyes wearily.
The dusty track,
The flying horses,
The gay dresses of the women on the grandstand,
The cloudless blue sky,
The brilliant September sunshine,
The purple distances all co-mingled in a glare who've made her head ache.
Before it all,
She saw the tall figure by her side.
His face turned from her,
Watching the track intently.
She wondered with a vague curiosity what induced him to come to the races.
Such things were not greatly in his likes.
Evidently,
Their chance meeting had not disturbed him.
It was a sign that he did not care.
She sighed a little wearily and closed her eyes.
When the heat was over,
He turned to her.
May I ask how you've been since we last met?
You're looking extremely well.
Has Vanity Fair pulled in any degree?
The lady was angry with herself and at him.
Where had her careless society manner and well-bred composure gone?
She felt weak and hysterical.
What if she should burst into tears before the whole crowd,
Before those coldly critical grey eyes?
She almost hated him at that moment.
No,
Why shouldn't it?
I found it very pleasant.
I've been very well,
Thank you.
And you?
He jotted down the score carefully before he replied.
A bookworm and recluse always leads a placid life.
I never care for an excitement,
You know.
I came down here to attend a sale of some rare editions.
And a well-meaning friend dragged me out to see the races.
I find it rather interesting,
I must confess.
Much more so than I should have fancied.
Sorry I can't stay till the end,
I must go as soon as the freefall is over,
If not before.
I've backed Mascot.
She answered quickly.
It almost seemed defiantly.
How horribly unreal this was.
This carrying on of small tasks as if they were the merest of chance met acquaintances.
She belongs to a friend of mine,
So I'm naturally interested.
She and Mascot are ties now.
Both have won two heats.
One more for either will decide it,
He said.
This is a good day for the races.
Excuse me.
He leaned over and brushed a scrap of paper from her grey cloak.
She shivered slightly.
You're cold?
This stand is drafty.
I'm not at all cold,
Thank you.
What race is this?
Oh,
The three-minute one.
She bent forward with assumed interest to watch the scoring.
She was breathing heavily.
There were tears in her eyes.
She bit her lip savagely and glared at the track until they were gone.
Presently he spoke again,
In the low,
Even tone demanded by circumstances.
This is a curious meeting,
Is it not?
Quite a flavour of romance.
By the way,
Do you read as many novels as ever?
The lady fancied there was mockery in his tone.
She remembered how very frivolously he used to consider her novel reading.
Besides,
She resented his personal tinge.
What right had he?
Almost as many,
She answered carelessly.
I was very intolerant,
Wasn't I?
He said after a pause.
You thought so and you were right.
You've been happier since you left me.
Yes,
She said defiantly,
Looking right into his eyes.
And you do not regret it.
He bent down a little.
His sleeve brushed against her shoulder.
Something in his face arrested the answer she meant to make.
I did not say that.
She murmured faintly.
There was a burst of cheering.
The free-for-all horses were being brought out for the sixth heat.
She turned away to watch them.
The scoring began and seemed likely to have no end.
Now she was tired of it all.
It didn't matter a pin to her whether Lulu or Mascot won.
What did matter?
And Vanity Fair,
After all,
Being a satisfying exchange for love?
He had loved her once.
And they had been happy at first.
She had never before said,
Even in her own heart,
I am sorry.
But suddenly she felt his hand on her shoulder and she looked up.
Their eyes met.
He stooped and said,
Almost in a whisper,
Will you come back to me?
I don't know.
She whispered breathlessly as one half fascinated.
We were both to blame.
But I was the worst.
I was too hard on you.
I ought to have made more allowance.
But we are wiser now,
Both of us.
Come back to me,
My wife.
His tone was cold and his face expressionless.
It was on her lips to cry out no passionately.
But the slender scholarly hand on her shoulder was trembling with the intensity of his repressed emotion.
He did care.
A wild caprice flashed into her brain and she sprang up.
See,
She cried,
They're off now.
This heat will probably decide the race.
If Lulu wins,
I will not go back to you,
And if Mascot does,
I will.
That is my decision.
The man turned paler but bowed in assent.
He knew by bitter experience how unchangeable her whims were,
How obstinately she clung to even the most absurd.
She,
Meanwhile,
Leaned forward breathlessly.
The crowd hung silently on the tracks.
Lulu and Mascot were neck and neck,
Getting in splendid work.
Halfway round the course,
Lulu forged half a neck ahead and her backers went mad.
But one woman dropped her head in her hands and dared look no more.
One man with white face and set lips watched the track unswervingly.
Again,
Mascot crawled up inch by inch.
They were on the homestretch now.
They were equal.
The cheering broke out.
Then silence.
Then another terrific burst.
Shouts,
Yells and clappings.
Mascot had won the free-for-all.
In the front row,
A woman stood up,
Swayed and shaken as a leaf in the wind.
She straightened her scarlet hat and readjusted her veil unsteadily.
There was a smile on her lips and a tear in her eyes.
No one noticed her.
That a man beside her drew her hand through his arm.
In a quiet,
Proprietary fashion.
Then step by step.
They left the grandstand.
Together.
