Part 35 (1/2)

Michael handed her the sardines. How could he just rest and be content?

If he did, he would allow himself to drift into the woman's mood, he would be enjoying himself at the cost of his loyalty to Margaret. He would be drowning ”the clear voice” with Moselle cup and smothering it with galantine of chicken and pigeon-pie.

”I want you to promise me,” Millicent said, ”just to eat this one meal happily with me, eat and forget. For half an hour or more don't ask me any questions and don't scold!” She handed Michael an olive in her fingers. ”Open,” she said. ”They're so good.”

Michael opened his mouth, but he took the olive from her fingers into his own.

”Will you do what I ask?” she said. ”If you will, I'll promise to listen to you afterwards. Your conscience is an awful bore, Michael.”

”I'm an awful bore apart from my conscience. It's simply your impish persistence that makes you desire my society. It can't be anything else.”

”Perhaps it is,” Millicent said. ”All the same, will you promise?”

”Very well,” Michael said. ”That's a bargain. I promise.”

”For this one meal you'll be like you used to be?”

”What was that?” he asked. Her words annoyed him.

”Mine,” she said. ”Mine and not Margaret Lampton's.”

Michael put down his knife and fork and looked straight into the eyes of the woman opposite him.

”I am Margaret Lampton's,” he said, ”and you'd better know it. I'm Margaret Lampton's, body and soul.” He flung her hand away.

Millicent gave a suggestive whistle. ”Wh-o-o!” she said, with a low laugh. ”So that's it?”

”What do you mean?” he said.

”Nothing--I didn't say anything, did I? Oh, don't let's quarrel--let's enjoy our lunch.”

”Very well,” he said. ”Let's, for time's flying. But it's best for you to know that I'm Margaret's.”

”Never mind--lend yourself to me for a few days. Surely she won't mind if we amuse ourselves in the desert?”

”I'm not going to lend myself to you,” he said. ”What nonsense you talk!

You're going back the way you came. You can play with someone else.”

”You dear silly, you can't make me!” Millicent laughed at the idea.

”Besides, you know you want me all the time, and you've just promised to enjoy this jolly little meal and to lecture me afterwards. I'm not going to be unhappy because you belong to Margaret Lampton.”

”So long as you know I do,” he said, ”I feel I can eat your excellent lunch.”

”And if Margaret doesn't know, what can it matter?”

”Oh, Millicent!”

”You know, Mike, it's what's found out that matters. If you enjoy yourself and make me happy for two or three days in the desert and Margaret never knows, what harm could it do?”

”If you can't see the harm for yourself,” he said, ”I can't show it to you.”