Part 59 (1/2)
”Have I been asleep?”
Wally laughed.
”You have been having what you might call a nap.” He ma.s.saged his left arm vigorously. ”You needed it. Do you feel more rested now?”
”Good gracious! Have I been squas.h.i.+ng your poor arm all the time? Why didn't you move?”
”I was afraid you would fall over. You just shut your eyes and toppled sideways.”
”What's the time?”
Wally looked at his watch.
”Just on ten.”
”Ten!” Jill was horrified. ”Why, I have been giving you cramp for about three hours! You must have had an awful time!”
”Oh, it was all right. I think I dozed off myself. Except that the birds didn't come and cover us with leaves; it was rather like the 'Babes in the Wood.'”
”But you haven't had any breakfast! Aren't you starving?”
”Well, I'm not saying I wouldn't spear a fried egg with some vim if it happened to float past. But there's plenty of time for that. Lots of doctors say you oughtn't to eat breakfast, and Indian fakirs go without food for days at a time in order to develop their souls. Shall I take you back to wherever you're staying? You ought to get a proper sleep in bed.”
”Don't dream of taking me. Go off and have something to eat.”
”Oh, that can wait. I'd like to see you safely home.”
Jill was conscious of a renewed sense of his comfortingness. There was no doubt about it, Wally was different from any other man she had known. She suddenly felt guilty, as if she were obtaining something valuable under false pretences.
”Wally!”
”Hullo?”
”You--you oughtn't to be so good to me!”
”Nonsense! Where's the harm in lending a hand--or, rather, an arm--to a pal in trouble?”
”You know what I mean. I can't ... that is to say ... it isn't as though ... I mean....”
Wally smiled a tired, friendly smile.
”If you're trying to say what I think you're trying to say, don't! We had all that out two weeks ago. I quite understand the position. You mustn't worry yourself about it.” He took her arm, and they crossed the boardwalk. ”Are we going in the right direction? You lead the way.
I know exactly how you feel. We're old friends, and nothing more. But, as an old friend, I claim the right to behave like an old friend. If an old friend can't behave like an old friend, how _can_ an old friend behave? And now we'll rule the whole topic out of the conversation.
But perhaps you're too tired for conversation?”
”Oh, no.”
”Then I will tell you about the sad death of young Mr. Pilkington.”