Part 33 (2/2)
”Barbara? What on earth has _she_ been doing?”
”She's been doing nothing. It's--it's rather what she may do if you don't stop her.”
”I don't want to stop her,” said f.a.n.n.y, ”if you're thinking of Ralph Bevan.”
”Ralph Bevan? I certainly am not thinking of him. Neither is she.”
”Well then, what?”
”I was thinking of myself.”
”My dear, you surely don't imagine that Barbara's thinking of you?”
”Not--not in the way you imply. The fact is, I was let in for a--a rather unpleasant scene the other day with Mrs. Levitt.”
”I always thought,” said f.a.n.n.y, ”that woman would let you in for something. Well?”
”Well, I hardly know how to tell you about it, my dear.”
”Why, was it as bad as all that? Perhaps I'd better not know.”
”I want you to know. I'm trying to tell you--because of Barbara.”
”I can't see where Barbara comes in.”
”She came into the library while it was happening--”
f.a.n.n.y laughed and it disconcerted him.
”While what was happening?” she said. ”You'd better tell me straight out. I don't suppose it was anything like as bad as you think it was.”
”I'm only afraid of what Barbara might think.”
”Oh, you can trust Barbara not to think things. She never does.”
Dear f.a.n.n.y. He would have found his job of explaining atrociously difficult with any other woman. Any other woman would have entangled him tighter and tighter; but he could see that f.a.n.n.y was trying to get it straight, to help him out with all his honour and self-respect and dignity intact. Every turn she gave to the conversation favoured him.
”My dear, I'm afraid she saw something that I must say was open to misinterpretation. It wasn't my fault, but--”
No. The better he remembered it the more clearly he saw it was Elise's fault, not his. And he could see that f.a.n.n.y thought it was Elise's fault. This suggested the next step in the course that was only not perjury because it was so purely instinctive, the subterfuge of terrified vanity. It seemed to him that he had no plan; that he followed f.a.n.n.y.
”Upon my word I'd tell you straight out, f.a.n.n.y, only I don't like to give the poor woman away.”
”Mrs. Levitt?” said f.a.n.n.y. ”You needn't mind. You may be quite sure that she'll give _you_ away if you don't.”
She was giving him a clear lead.
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