Part 7 (1/2)
He'd be so pleased!”
”I'm not so sure,” Grizel said shrewdly. ”I'm his wife and he adores me, but he'd rather play golf with a boring man with a good handicap, and come home to find me sitting on a sofa looking pretty and fluffy, ready to acclaim his exploits, and listen to volumes about every hole, and the marvellous way in which he cleeked his tee off the bogie. Well!
what is it? Don't you call it a bogie?” She laughed herself, in sympathy with the other's merriment, and ended with an involuntary: ”Lady Ca.s.sandra! I'm so _glad_ you came. Do let us often laugh together! I have such a comfortable feeling that you won't be shocked at anything I say.”
”No one ever shocks me, except myself. You don't know how glad I shall be. I'm really rather a lonely person, though I've lived here so long.
It seems extraordinary to have had this intimate conversation with you on our very first meeting. I wouldn't dream of discussing such matters with any other woman in the neighbourhood.”
”Of course not. You don't know anyone else so well. We _are_ intimates, so what's the use of hedging?”
”I don't want to hedge. I'm only too thankful to know it. It's not healthy to live so much alone. One grows introspective. These last years I've been growing more and more absorbed in Ca.s.sandra Raynor.”
”Well! she _is_ attractive, isn't she? I'm going to do exactly the same. I felt it in my bones the moment you entered the room. You felt it too! I saw the little spark leap to your eyes.”
”It did. It's quite true, but I ought to warn you that being a.s.sociated with me, won't make you any more popular in Chumley. Chumley doesn't-- approve of me! I expect you are sensitive enough to atmospheres to have grasped that fact for yourself?”
”I did. Yes. But why?”
”Oh, many reasons. I dress fas.h.i.+onably. I hate parish work. I don't go to 'teas,' or give them in return. I'm lazy about calls. I'm not interested in the people, and I can't pretend.”
”Oh, but I shall be interested. I always am. I love all those dear old things in their dolmans and black silks. They are types of the old-fas.h.i.+oned women, whom I've read about, but never known. I shall love studying them, and hearing their views, and shocking them by telling them mine in return. They'll love being shocked--all prim old ladies love it. They're all walking home now, buzzing over my _faux pas_, and feeling as perked up as if they'd been to the theatre. They think they are grieved, but they have really enjoyed themselves immensely. I lived with a very old great-aunt before my marriage, so I'm an expert in old ladies.”
Ca.s.sandra a.s.sented absently. She was not interested in old ladies, but she was interested in watching Grizel as she talked. Her practised eye took in every detail of her appearance, and every detail was right. She studied her features, her expression, the waves of her soft fair hair, the swiftly moving hands, and sat smiling, appearing to listen, while her thoughts raced ahead, planning future meetings, seeing herself blessed with a friend who would fill the empty gap.
”I shall be jealous of the old ladies if you give them too much of your company!” she said, with a charming smile which accentuated the flattery of the remark. Grizel smiled back with a little nod of acknowledgment, and Ca.s.sandra lifted her m.u.f.f as if preparing to depart, asking casually the while:
”Have you good news of your sister-in-law, Miss Beverley? I knew her slightly, and admired her a great deal. She went to India, I think?”
Grizel's eyes danced with animation.
”She did. Yes. To visit a friend. We saw her off at Ma.r.s.eilles, my husband and I, and a fortnight later we were sitting in a cafe, drinking coffee, and flirting outrageously, when we suddenly saw the name of the s.h.i.+p on a poster! It had been in a collision in the Indian Ocean; and the pa.s.sengers had to take to the boats. If another s.h.i.+p had not come to the rescue, they might all have been drowned.”
”What a terrible experience! How sad for the poor girl, just when she was starting for such a delightful visit!”
”Not at all sad. Not at all. A very good thing,” said Grizel unexpectedly. ”Katrine had been wading through trivialities all her life; a big experience was just what she needed. Besides--as a matter of fact... there was a _Man_!”
”Aha!” cried Ca.s.sandra, immediately fired with feminine interest. ”On the s.h.i.+p?”
”Pre-cisely! Fastening her into life-belts, bidding her a tragic adieu, waving a gallant hand from the sinking prow.”
”Just so. I understand! And when is the wedding to be?”
Grizel's face lengthened in dismay.
”Goodness me--I haven't _told_ you, have I? No one is to know for a couple of months. How on earth did you guess? _Please_ don't speak of it to a soul. You see, it's a trifle awkward, because as a matter of fact the real man,--it wasn't the real man,--I mean it _was_ the real man really, only he pretended--”
Ca.s.sandra held up a protesting hand.
”I think you'd better leave it alone! You didn't tell me anything; I guessed, but I'll promise to forget forthwith, and be agreeably surprised when I hear the news a few months hence. _Don't_ tell me any names!”
Before Grizel could reply the whizz of an electric bell sounded through the house, and both women involuntarily groaned, foreseeing an end to their _tete-a-tete_, but the next moment Grizel's eyes brightened.
”It's a _man_!” she whispered ecstatically. ”It's a man. I can hear his dear boots! My first man caller! Oh joy! Oh rapture!”